“And what is that?”
“I need to know if the rumors are true.”
“What rumors?”
“That they have entombed some of my people alive with the dead.”
She lowered her head, nodding slowly as she stared at the ground. “I’ve heard the same horrible things.” She looked up at him. “Surely they wouldn’t do such a thing!”
“Megacles betrayed them when he cut the thread. He is filled with rage, and the others are afraid to challenge him. I fear I may have created a tyrant through my actions.” He closed his eyes, picturing his friends and the horror of their last moments. “I need to know if my people still suffer.”
“And if they do? The tomb is guarded. There’s no way you can free them.”
“I don’t intend to free them.”
She frowned, squeezing his hands tighter. “I don’t understand. What do you intend to do?”
“I intend to give them an honorable death.”
21 |
Dimotiki Agora
Athens, Greece
Present Day
“It’s too late.”
Damos frowned, his chair protesting loudly as he leaned back, his chest growing tight. He pressed the phone tighter against his ear. “What do you mean?”
“The outsiders I spoke of. They’re here, and they brought a security team with them.”
Damos’ eyes widened.
A security team? Why would archaeologists from America bring a security team?
Something didn’t make sense, but explanations were irrelevant. They were here, and it was a problem.
“How many?”
“Six.”
He closed his eyes, sighing. “Are they any good?”
“I think so. I think they’re former Special Forces or something.”
A vein pulsed on his neck. “American?”
“No, Greek.”
He drew a deep breath, then opened his eyes. “That complicates things. Can you still get the item?”
“No, not anymore. They’re setting up cameras around the perimeter, and searching everyone as they leave. I can still probably get it to where your people were going to retrieve it, but I could get caught.”
“That’s not my problem, that’s yours.”
“I’m aware of that, but I think this is too risky now. We’re going to have to call it off.”
He leaned forward, gripping the phone tightly. “That’s not an option.”
“What do you mean?”
“Promises have been made. Monies have been paid. If you don’t provide what you promised, then those people we spoke of just might decide to eliminate you as punishment.”
“Then-then what am I going to do?”
He could hear the fear in her voice, and did have a hint of sympathy for her. She was an amateur, only a thief through circumstance, as opposed to one who actively stole goods from stores or people’s houses. If she had never been presented the opportunity, he doubted she’d have ever stolen anything in her life.
But none of that mattered.
For his life was on the line as well.
“Figure it out yourself. These people are either getting what they paid for, or taking you as payment instead.”
“I-I’ll figure out something.”
“You do that.”
He ended the call then leaned back, calming his nerves as he debated on whether he should call the team the winning bidder had dispatched for the collection of the item.
He shook his head.
They’re liable to kill you first.
22 |
The Necropolis
City of Athens
632 BC
Cylon had the distinct impression he had been followed the entire way to the tomb where his friends and supporters had been interned, yet every time he doubled back to catch whomever it was, he came up empty.
Nerves.
It had to be. He was imagining things. He was so on edge that his mind was playing tricks on him, though every fiber of his being was screaming the same thing.
Stop!
It was foolishness what he was doing. He was heading into the belly of the lion. He was certain Megacles had left some of his friends alive to lay a trap for him. The archon had to know it would be an irresistible force that would draw him in. And knowing that fact, made Cylon even more the fool.
Or was it something else?
He wanted to survive for his wife and son’s sake, but for what? He had lost everything, and his name would be a stain on his family should he remain at large. His wife was from a good family, a powerful family, and she would go to her father tomorrow, with their son, and they would thrive there, he was certain.
Though only if he were no longer a source of trouble for Athens.
He had to die to save them.
Though first, he must save the souls of his friends.
Again, he heard something behind him and whipped around, finding nothing but empty streets, only the odd candle flickering in but a few windows, this the dead of night.
He drew a steadying breath, now convinced if he were being followed, it wasn’t a man but a beast, perhaps a stray dog, for the footfalls he was certain he was hearing were too light to be anyone or anything that might challenge him.
He decided to ignore anything further he might hear, and pressed onward toward the tomb. The entrance was well lit, revealing two tired guards and little else.
It surprised him. If they had indeed thought he might return, surely there would be more than two guards.
Now he was on edge.
This had to be a trap. There was no way they would leave so few guards, not with him still at large.
Though if he were wise, as he was certain they thought he was, he would have left the city yesterday, and not returned until he had sufficient forces to stage his coup and take his place as tyrant.
He grunted.
They must not know me, for I am a fool.
He crept forward in the dark, nearing the entrance, his head on a swivel as he took in everything around him, trying to make sense of the shadows surrounding him, and the sounds that filled his ears.
And he still found nothing.
Well, you wanted to die.
He stood straight, drawing his sword, then strode with purpose toward the entrance, the two guards, chatting among themselves, not noticing him until he was mere paces away.
“Halt! Identify yourself!”
“I am Cylon of Athens.”
Both men stared at him then each other in shock.
It would be their final mistake.
Cylon’s blade swung quietly through the air, the torchlight glimmering off the honed metal as it sliced open the belly of the nearest guard, then cleaved the chin of the second on the upswing. He plunged the tip of the weapon into the chest of the second, silencing his scream before it could be uttered, then dropped his heel hard on the neck of the first, ending his groans of agony with the crushing of his windpipe.
It was over in mere seconds, leaving Cylon to seek shelter in the shadows of the entrance as he peered into the darkness for any others lying in wait.
And again, he found none.
He dragged the bodies inside then grabbed one of the torches, hurrying down a long set of steps that then opened into a necropolis of significant size.
And he gasped as his eyes adjusted, and his ears picked up the faint moans of agony that confirmed the horrible rumors.
Megacles’ shame knows no bounds!
He rushed forward and stumbled over the first body, a long row of the dead stretching out into the darkness, each shackled to the next, their bodies neatly aligned.
At least some respect was shown.
But these were the dead.
What of the others?
He hurried down the line, holding his torch close to each face, saying their names as he recognized them, followed by a short prayer for each of their souls.
Then he found the source of the anguish he ha
d been hearing. A jumble of bodies, some dead, some writhing in weakened agony, all shackled together in a sickening, twisted mound of flesh as those who still lived tried to escape their tortuous fate.
“Cylon!”
It was barely a whisper, but he’d recognize the voice anywhere.
“Basileios!”
He rushed forward, holding his torch out, searching for his friend, when a hand reached out and grabbed his ankle. He dropped to the ground, taking the hand and following the outstretched arm into the pile of limbs, then pulled, his friend slipping out, covered in the blood of those that had surrounded him, and much of his own from the gaping wound on his back.
“My friend! I can’t believe they did this to you.”
Basileios stared up at him, his eyes vacant, his face pale. “Kill me.”
Cylon shook his head. “No, I’m going to get you out of here. I’m going to get you all out of here.”
It hadn’t been his plan, though he had never dreamed that not only had Megacles actually committed this horrible crime, but that his best friend would be one of those left alive.
It changed everything.
Basileios shook his head. “I’m dead already. Please, just end our suffering.”
A chorus of voices joined him, each echoing the same sentiment, and his chest ached and eyes burned at the impossible deed he was being asked to perform.
“Please, Cylon, kill us!”
“Have mercy!”
“Please, end our suffering!”
His voice cracked as his shoulders shook. “I-I shall, my friends. I shall.” Sobs racked his body as he collapsed, praying to the gods for forgiveness for what he was about to do.
He rose, his blade in one hand, the torch in the other, holding the flame to each of the faces in the tangled bunch. The first was dead already, but the second wasn’t.
“Kill me!”
“Perseus!” Cylon closed his eyes as he pictured the first time he had met this once powerful man, tears flowing down his cheeks as he prepared himself for what was asked of him.
No man should ever be forced to do such a thing.
He opened his eyes and forced a smile, placing the tip of his blade against Perseus’ chest. “Don’t worry, my friend, your suffering is almost over.”
A hand reached out and touched his arm. “Thank you, my friend.”
Cylon shoved the blade hard into Perseus’ chest, the last gasp of life from his friend causing Cylon to cry out in anguish, collapsing before the others as his shoulders heaved.
To his shame, the rest were easier, and soon the tangled mess he had found was silent, save his friend, Basileios, whom he had left for last.
“Please. Release me from this hell.”
Cylon sat beside his friend, brushing the hair from his eyes. “I’m so sorry I left you.”
“It-it was my choice.”
“It doesn’t make it any easier. It’s because of me that you’re here.”
Basileios’ eyes opened with a brief moment of clarity, staring up at him. “Never for a moment think I blame you for what happened. I love you like a brother, and die happy in knowing that it was you, my best friend, that ended my life, rather than a dishonorable wretch like Megacles.” He reached forward, weakly gripping Cylon’s wrist, dragging the sword toward him. “Now finish this, and save yourself. They will be back.”
Cylon nodded, rising to his knees, positioning the blade over his friend’s heart. “I will see you soon in Elysium.”
Basileios smiled. “I look forward to it.”
Cylon closed his eyes and plunged the blade deep through his friend, crying out at his friend’s last gasp, then draping himself over the body of the one person who knew everything about him, who knew all his secrets, and who had always been there to support him.
What will I do without you?
He rose, withdrawing his sword, then bent over to pick up the torch. Something glimmered in the light, gripped in his friend’s hand. He knelt and pried open the tightly clasped fingers, then gasped.
It was the amulet given him by Pythia.
An amulet that had not provided him with the strength of Apollo, but instead misery and failure at every turn.
He pulled it from his friend’s hand then rose, listening for the sounds of any more suffering, instead only hearing the hammering of his own heart.
He took one final look at his fallen friends, bowing his head in prayer, then hurried toward the exit. He had survived, and though he still wanted to die, he had one remaining task before that blessed release.
He had to kill Megacles.
23 |
King George Hotel
Athens, Greece
Present Day
It probably redefined quickie, but as Adelaide rolled off him, Leather sensed she was as satisfied as he was, though he didn’t dare ask.
“That was a bloody ripper!”
“Is that good?”
She grinned. “Oh yeah.”
Leather smiled with relief. “Who knew so much could be packed into five minutes.”
She laughed, wrapping a leg over his body and nestling into his shoulder. “This was a tremendous idea. I’ve always wanted to see Athens.” She propped herself up on his chest, staring into his eyes. “Do you think your friends will give me a tour?”
He grunted. “They’re not my friends, they’re my clients.”
“But I thought you said they were nice?”
“They are. Very. But they’re still my clients. I like them, yes, but I can’t risk the lines being blurred.”
She ran a finger down his chest, toward his nether regions. “I think this little idea of your client suggests the line is already blurred.”
He frowned. “You’re right.” He sighed, closing his eyes as her finger reached more sensitive topics. “Umm, as much as I hate to say this, I have to get ready.”
Squeeze.
“Are you sure?”
He moaned. “You have no idea how much I want to cancel my contract right now.”
She laughed, giving one last squeeze, then releasing—much to his disappointment and relief. “Go, get ready. I’ll keep myself entertained.”
“You’re the best.”
“I know, and don’t you forget it.”
He rolled out of bed and made for the bathroom, a smile on his face. “I wouldn’t dare.”
“Your phone is vibrating.”
He hurried back to find the phone nestled between her breasts. “Phone call for Mr. Leather, paging Mr. Leather.”
He grinned, then straddled her stomach and retrieved the phone. “It’s Korba.” He swiped his thumb. “Hello?”
“Five minutes.”
Something started down below. “Umm, can you find some traffic?”
“Huh?”
“I need fifteen.”
“I’ll wait. She better be gorgeous.”
The call ended and he groaned. “You’re terrible.” He looked down at her. “And I mean that in the most wonderful way.”
She winked, and gave him an unforgettable send-off before he finally threw himself together and met Korba in front of the hotel. He climbed in with a smile.
“Your definition of fifteen minutes is different than mine, my friend.”
Leather chuckled, shaking the man’s hand, noticing the grip slightly different than expected before he remembered Korba’s missing pinky finger. “Sorry about that. What’s the status?”
“The site is secure. We’re putting up surveillance equipment now. Cameras, motion detectors, lighting, a more robust screening process. Everything should be online within a couple of hours.”
“Excellent. Resistance?”
Korba shrugged. “Some of the younger people are a little upset at the pat downs, especially the women. I have a couple of females coming in tomorrow with the rest of my team. I figured it was more important to get an advance team on-site first.”
Leather nodded. “You made the right choice. If the women object, just hav
e them search each other.” He paused. “Doesn’t the professor in charge have his wife on-site? Maybe she could do the pat downs, just in case there are more than one involved in the thefts. We wouldn’t want the thieves patting down each other.”
Korba made a left, cursing at the light he just ran. “That’s a good idea.” He took an exaggerated sniff of the air between them. “That’s a lovely perfume you’re wearing.”
“Hey, don’t ask, don’t tell.”
Korba laughed. “Buddy, this is Greece. You better man up, even if you’re living an alternative lifestyle.”
Leather wagged a finger. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but how long have you known me?”
“So, it’s a woman that had me waiting for so long.”
“Yes.”
“Name?”
“Adelaide.”
“Hair?”
“Blond.”
“Tits?”
“Two, and if you ask me anything else like that, I’ll tear off your other finger to match.”
Korba tossed his head back, laughing. “You definitely haven’t changed. Chivalrous as always, even toward that horrible ex-wife of yours.”
Leather rolled his eyes. “Let’s not bring her into this. There was a time I’d prefer castration to the very idea of another long-term relationship.”
“So, you think this one could be the one?”
Leather shrugged. “Waaay too early to tell. Let’s just say she’s fantastic, and a lot of fun. But we’ve spent a grand total of three days together, four if you count today.”
“A lifetime!”
Leather eyed him. “For you, perhaps. How many marriages was it?”
Korba started counting off on his fingers. “I stopped after four.” He held up his digit deprived hand. “But only because I can’t count any higher.”
24 |
Dimotiki Agora
Athens, Greece
Damos’ heart skipped a beat when the call was answered. He shouldn’t have taken the job of finding a buyer for an item like this. It was too expensive. When the money was in the eight figures, it meant men like those he was now on the line with.
It meant death was around a corner too close.
The Cylon Curse Page 7