Acton pursed his lips. “Who knew about it?”
Antoniou shook his head. “Everyone did. You can’t hide excitement like that. We told everyone to keep it quiet, but you know young people, they probably had it all over their phones before they left the site.”
Leather gestured toward the gate. “There’s something more going on here, though. All these guys looked Middle Eastern. Could the Muslims somehow have taken offense to what you’re doing here?”
Acton’s eyebrows rose. “You mean that this wasn’t a theft, but an attack?”
Leather shrugged. “You don’t assault a site the way they did, unless you intend to inflict damage. This was not a surgical operation, it was a sloppy mess.”
Acton frowned. “Yet they still succeeded.”
Leather exhaled loudly. “You’re right. If the urn was still here, then my theory that this was a terrorist attack might hold water, but since it’s gone, it does suggest that this was a heist after all.”
“It was a reasonable theory, especially based upon past experience.”
Antoniou nodded. “It’s always a constant fear with archaeological finds today that should they somehow contradict the Koran, someone will take offense and try to kill you for your troubles. They’re so easily provoked.” He shook his head, holding up a hand. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.”
“Even if it’s the truth,” muttered Tommy.
Acton regarded him for a moment, the young man’s observations unfortunately closer to the truth than the political class would have them believe.
“Sorry,” mumbled Tommy. “I guess that was uncalled for too.” He patted his pocket where the phone was hidden. “Hopefully this will give us some answers.”
Acton nodded. “Hopefully.”
They all turned as Korba approached. “I’m glad to see you’re all okay. My men are on their way to the hospital. Fortunately, your own guards ran at the first sign of trouble, so they’re fine, but I doubt you’ll get them to come back.”
Antoniou frowned. “Then we’ve got no one to protect the site tonight.”
Korba shook his head, gesturing at the heavy police presence. “Don’t worry. Nobody is getting in or out of this place without going through them. They’ll be here for a while.”
Antoniou breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good.” He groaned. “There’ll be no hiding what’s been going on here now.” His shoulders slumped. “It’s over.”
Korba jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “You’ll have to excuse me. They’re trying to blame my guys for what happened, saying we were overreacting to petty thieves.” He spat. “Petty thieves don’t carry AKs.”
Acton watched as a body bag was zipped up with Korba’s man inside. “We can’t seem to go anywhere without someone dying.”
“It’s the curse.”
They all turned to Juno, her face pale.
“What do you mean?” asked Laura.
“It’s the curse that Cylon wrote on the urn. It’s coming true once again.”
Acton shuddered as he recalled the words inscribed by the would-be tyrant, then wrapped an arm around Laura’s shoulders. “Let’s hope the paranormal doesn’t begin to enter this. If it does, then we’re truly screwed.”
26 |
King George Hotel
Athens, Greece
Acton leafed through the New York Times International Edition as he sipped his orange juice, Laura sitting beside him buttering a croissant. A knock at the door had him folding the paper, Laura waving him off.
“I’ll get it.”
“Check first.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Ooh, who’s your daddy?”
She gave him the eye. “I’ve always thought that was one of the most disgusting phrases ever uttered.”
He chuckled. “Agreed. Never understood it myself, unless the girl has serious daddy issues.”
Laura peered through the peephole then unlocked the door. “Even then, what kind of guy asks it?”
“Someone with issues.”
“Who asks what?” asked Tommy as he and Mai entered.
“Who’s your daddy?”
Tommy laughed. “The first time I asked her, she thought I wanted to know his name!”
Mai blushed, belting his arm, Tommy genuinely feeling the pain this time. “No bedroom talk!”
His shoulders sagged, and he truly did appear contrite. “Sorry, hon, that was wrong.”
She took her seat, giving him the cold shoulder, and Acton gave Laura a surreptitious wink. He tossed the Times aside and opened the Greek To Vima paper delivered with their breakfast, struggling to translate the headline, when his jaw slackened.
“Uh oh.”
Laura looked at him. “What?”
“Well, my Ancient Greek is far better than my modern, but they do say a picture is worth a thousand words.” He turned the front page around so they could see the photo that had him concerned.
A photo of the dig site, with an inset of the missing urn.
“What’s it say?” asked Mai.
Acton frowned. “Got an hour?”
Tommy motioned for him to hand over the newspaper. “Give it here.”
Acton gave him a look.
“Please.”
Acton gave an exaggerated nod of his head. “That’s better.” He handed it over and Tommy pulled out his phone, taking a photo of the front page. A few taps of the screen and he handed the phone to Acton. His eyebrows shot up. “Holy crap!”
Laura leaned over. “What?”
“It’s the article. Translated.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Tommy. “Whatever app just did that, install it.”
Tommy grinned. “It’s actually a custom thing I whipped together.”
Acton eyed him. “So, what, you want me to pay you?”
Tommy’s eyes bulged. “Would you?”
Acton chuckled. “If it’s good, then why not turn it into an app and sell it?”
Tommy looked at Mai. “What do you think? Should I?”
She shrugged, there still a hint of an Arctic front between them. “I always said you should.”
Acton scanned the article, impressed with the accuracy. “You never know, it could turn into some extra pocket change, or a full-fledged business.” He gestured toward his phone. “But just start charging after you’ve installed it on my phone.”
Laura slid hers across the table. “And mine. I wouldn’t want to have to charge you for your hotel room.”
Tommy blushed and Mai’s jaw dropped, her ears crimson. Horrified glances were exchanged, the cold air mass gone as they were once again a united front. Tommy’s eyes darted everywhere except Laura’s direction. “Umm, well, we can pay, but, umm—”
Acton laughed. “No, you can’t. This is a five-star hotel, and costs more a night than you make in a week.” He reached out and gave Laura a playful slap on the shoulder. “Now look what you’ve done.”
Laura reached out and patted Tommy’s knee. “I was just joking. You know you’re always welcome to travel with us, and it will never cost you a dime.” She tapped her phone. “As long as we keep getting free apps.”
Tommy smiled. “Deal, though I think we’re coming out waaay ahead.”
Acton grunted. “Don’t worry. When you earn your first billion and are richer than us, you can pay for everything.”
Tommy’s smile broadened. “Now that’s a deal.”
Acton waved Tommy’s phone. “According to this, what happened last night is obviously big news. It looks like one of the grad students that was there spilled everything, including about the shootout, the deaths, and everything about the stolen urn. It also tells about the petty thefts that had been going on, and the fact it had been covered up by Professor Antoniou.” He shook his head. “This is terrible. Basil is going to be devastated.”
Laura took the phone, skimming the article for herself. “The cover-up is what’s going to get them shut down. Even if we help fund the excavation, w
ith the deaths and the lies, I don’t know if that would be enough.”
Tommy swallowed a piece of bacon. “But isn’t it important?”
Laura returned his phone. “As you get older, you’ll come to realize that the first things that get cut when budgets are tight, are the arts and sciences. Unfortunately, digging up ancient bones and clay pots pales, and perhaps rightly so, when the choice is discovery versus more nurses or police officers.”
Acton refilled his coffee. “This is why private donations are so important. If it’s important to the people, then things will get funded themselves, without having to use taxpayers’ money. Throughout history, this was how the arts were funded, and how charities were funded. Governments didn’t provide subsidies, it was the wealthy that gave money to help the poor. It was their responsibility as nobles. Today, the rich give billions, but too many who control the microphones vilify them for being rich, without looking at what they do for the poor, or for science in general.” He flicked a wrist toward his wife. “Look at Laura. She’s donated—”
“We’ve donated.”
He chuckled. “Fine. We’ve donated, millions upon millions. And when she kicks the bucket before me, I’m going to party like it’s 1999, then leave what’s left to charity, and join her wherever she ended up.”
She gave him a look. “Party too hard, and we might just end up heading in opposite directions.”
Acton pursed his lips, his head bobbing slowly. “This is true. Perhaps I better die first.”
“Well, you are much older than me.”
His eyebrows rose and his head dipped forward. “Much?”
“Don’t worry, dear, you wear it well.”
Mai sighed, taking Tommy’s hand as she watched the exchange. “I hope we end up like you two. You’re so funny.”
Acton smiled at her. “If it’s meant to be, then you will be. But remember, it takes time to get comfortable with a person, and it’s a lot tougher when you’re younger and still discovering who you are.”
Laura agreed. “Give it time, and you’ll know what each other is thinking.”
Acton grinned. “And if those thoughts don’t terrify you, then maybe you’ll be as disgustingly happy as us.”
Tommy gave Mai’s hand a squeeze. “Sounds good to me.” He handed both phones back. “You’ve been upgraded. Just launch the Triple-T app, take a photo of whatever you want translated, select the language if it can’t figure it out by itself, then off you go.”
Acton’s eyes narrowed. “Triple-T?”
“Tommy’s Text Translator.”
“Cool.” Acton tapped the phone. “See, you’ve already got a catchy name. Now go turn it into some money. Put those skills to work.”
“Oh, that reminds me.” Tommy reached into his pocket and pulled out the phone discovered last night on one of the bodies. “I was able to pull some data off the phone. Just the last few calls. It looks like it was a burner calling other burners. Maybe if you get the numbers to Agent Reading, he can run them down.”
Acton cursed. “I forgot to send those photos Cameron took.” He gestured toward the phone Tommy was holding. “Send me everything you’ve got, and I’ll forward it to Hugh. Maybe he can run them down.” He smiled as an idea occurred to him, and he turned to Laura. “Maybe we should invite Hugh to join us.”
She swallowed the last of her croissant. “I don’t think he has as much vacation time as you think he does. One of these days they’re going to fire him.”
Acton grunted. “Might be the best thing for him. We’ll put him in the spare bedroom.”
Laura laughed. “Oh no! It would be like having my father around!”
“I’ll tell him you said that.”
“Don’t you dare! It would gut him!”
Acton smiled at her. “Hon, I don’t think you realize this, but I’m pretty sure he already thinks of you as a daughter, not a sister. I think he’d be extremely proud to know you thought of him that way.”
She stared at him. “You think?”
“Yup. Then he’d tear you a new one for thinking he was that old.”
27 |
Reading Residence, Whitehall
London, England
Interpol Agent Hugh Reading woke, immediately grabbing for the small of his back, the recurring aches and pains of old age getting worse by the day. He glanced at the alarm clock and cursed, there still another hour before he wanted to get up. He lay back down, his CPAP mask sucking at his face, and tried to force himself back to sleep.
But his back was having none of that.
A string of expletives that would make a sailor blush erupted, muffled by the mask, as he rolled his legs out of bed. He reached over and turned off the machine, tearing the mask from his face and tossing it onto the nightstand. He hated the fact he had to wear it, but he loved the machine that was saving his life, and had restored his energy levels to near normal.
He was now almost evangelical about it. Whenever a friend or colleague talked about snoring, he’d tell them to get themselves—or their loved one, depending upon who was complaining—checked for sleep apnea. Until he had been diagnosed, he had no idea that it could cause heart damage that could eventually kill you. Why that fact wasn’t advertised, he had no idea. Too many people thought snoring was simply an annoyance to the other person in bed with them. Almost none knew it was slowly killing the person by thickening the heart wall.
He reached for his phone as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, then smiled when he saw a message from his best friend, Jim Acton. He opened the text and frowned when he saw the attached information.
Bloody hell!
He quickly forwarded the information to his partner at Interpol, Michelle Humphrey, then called her, knowing she was planning on being in early today.
“Hugh, what are you doing up so early? I thought you were planning on some beauty sleep. God knows you need it.”
He grunted. “Good morning to you too.” He tilted his head to the side, cracking his neck. “I just sent you a message with some numbers and photos. Can you run them for me?”
“Just a sec.” There was a pause, then the creaking of office furniture and the tapping of keys. “Okay, got it. What’s this about?”
“Jim and Laura are in it again.”
“These numbers are mostly in Greece.”
“Yeah, they’re in Athens right now, according to his message.”
There was a long sigh. “Please tell me they weren’t involved in that gun battle last night.”
Reading tensed. “What gun battle?”
“Some armed group attacked an archaeological dig in Athens last night. Some people were killed, some wounded. Some priceless artifact was stolen.”
“Bloody hell! If I know them, that’s exactly what they’re involved with. Run those numbers and photos as fast as you can, and contact Athens to find out the latest. I’m coming in.”
“On your day off?”
“There’s never a day off when those two are allowed out of the country.”
28 |
Outside Riyadh, Kingdom of Saudi Arabia
Sheik Khalid bin Al Jabar gripped the arm of his custom designed throne with his free hand. All the joy he felt while sitting within this priceless piece of art built by King Frederick of Prussia and given as a gift to Tsar Peter the Great, had been drained from him.
For he was being lied to.
And he hated being lied to.
“I want my item!”
“But we don’t have it. Their security was far stronger than we were led to believe. We lost a lot of good men last night, and it was all for nothing.”
“Bullshit!” He grabbed one of several newspapers sitting beside him, shaking it in his hand. “Have you picked up a paper today? It’s front page news all across Europe. The urn was stolen last night during the attack. I want what’s mine, or there will be consequences!”
“But I swear to Allah that we do not have it.”
Khalid saw red, his chest heaving
with rage. “You should never have crossed me. Now you will learn what happens when you betray me.”
He ended the call then whipped the phone across the room, instantly regretting the impulsive action as it slammed against a panel worth over a million dollars. “Nadeem!”
His manservant immediately appeared. “Sir?”
“Get me Tankov.”
29 |
Suqut Brigade Safe House
Athens, Greece
Ahmed Rafiq stared at the phone in disbelief, then tossed it on the table in front of him, the OtterBox case protecting it. He frowned at the survivors of last night’s fiasco.
“What?” asked Mustafa, his trusted friend and second-in-command.
“He thinks we have it.”
“Why would he think that?”
“Apparently, it’s in all the papers. It was stolen last night during the attack.” He pointed at one of his men, the gofer of the group. “Go get me a copy of today’s paper. Something I can read, not that Greek gibberish.” The man immediately left.
Mustafa shook his head. “We’ve been betrayed. That’s the only explanation.”
“Yes, but by whom? The only people who knew we were coming were the fence Damos, and his contact on the inside.”
Mustafa scratched his thick beard. “Unless one of them told someone.”
“If they did, then they’d know who they told. Either way, we’re dead unless we can deliver it.”
“But surely we can reason with the sheik.”
Rafiq stared at his friend. “We attacked the place in order to steal the item, and the item was stolen. What would you believe if you were him?”
“We’re dead then.” Mustafa grunted, jabbing a finger at him. “This is your fault.”
Rafiq bristled. “How do you figure?”
“You planned the operation.”
“How was I supposed to know they had heavily armed, well-trained guards?”
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