The Minoan Cipher (A Matinicus “Matt” Hawkins Adventure Book 2) Read online

  “Salazar.”

  “Hello, Mr. Salazar. This is Leonidas. Hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”

  Silence. Then, “I told you not to call me.”

  “I just wanted to say I’m sorry I was nasty to the two guys you sent over to see me.”

  “You’re not really sorry, Leonidas, but I’m curious how you managed to kill two professionals?”

  “They got sloppy.”

  “In that case they deserved to die.”

  “They were sloppy about delivering my money, too. Wondered if we could try again without the fireworks.”

  “Count yourself lucky that I’m too busy to follow up, Leonidas. Consider your life as payment enough. Don’t call me again. Ever.”

  Slam.

  Chad stared at the phone in his hand. “I guess that was a no.”

  He drained his glass, went to his bedroom and opened his make-up kit. Peeling off his handsome California surf bum face, he replaced it with a new layer of fake skin that was several shades darker. He tucked foam under the skin and darkened the eye pouches with touch-up. Then he added fleshy cheeks and jowls. He hid his hair under a fake bald scalp and touched up the edges with make-up so they would blend into the skin. Next came the beetling eyebrows. He smiled at himself in the full-length mirror and practiced Salazar’s silky voice. After several tries he got it within range.

  He phoned a men’s clothing store he had seen in the hotel lobby, said he needed a suit immediately and was willing to pay for it. He gave the clerk his measurements and said he wanted black, with a light blue shirt and yellow tie. Black dress shoes, too.

  “Can you find me a briefcase?”

  “No problem. There’s a leather shop in the lobby.”

  “Make it alligator skin. Remember. One hour.”

  Thirty-five minutes later the clerk arrived carrying a cardboard box and an alligator briefcase. Chad took the box from the clerk and gave him a fat tip.

  He stripped off his jeans and sweater and slipped into the suit. Salazar was heavier in the shoulders. He cut up strips of towel and used them as shoulder pads. A little lumpy but they’d have to do. Then he went back in front of the mirror, lowered his head and practiced Salazar’s menacing glower. Satisfied, he imitated Salazar’s purposeful walk on the way to the elevator and across the lobby to the entrance where he gave the door attendant a substantial tip and asked him to hail a limo.

  Ten minutes later the limo dropped him off in front of the Auroch Industries tower. He had been there once before when Salazar had hired him. He remembered Salazar presiding in a long room decorated with photos of mining operations.

  On the other side of the revolving door was a vast lobby, circular in shape, with highly polished marble walls and floors. At the center of the lobby, balanced on a platform of dark granite, was a perforated greenish-black hunk of copper ore as big as a car. According to a bronze plaque, the nugget was unearthed at an Auroch mine in Bolivia.

  On his last visit to the building, a limo brought him to an underground garage. A private elevator whisked him to Salazar’s office. He guessed that Salazar rarely came in the front door. He hoped the novelty of seeing Auroch’s CEO in the flesh would bring down a veil of confusion he could exploit.

  The uniformed security man standing next to the reception desk was the first to recognize him. His jaw dropped. As Chad strode directly toward the guard, he pulled out his cell phone and stuck it to his ear. Playing the role of the distracted executive, he gestured toward the bank of elevators.

  In his best Salazar imitation, he said, “If you don’t mind, I’m in a hurry.”

  The guard acted as if he’d been stuck with an electrical prod. “Of course, Mr. Salazar.”

  He led the way to the last elevator in the row and used a key to unlock the doors. Chad stepped into the elevator and glanced at the name on the man’s badge.

  “Thank you, Manuel.”

  The guard grinned, most likely savoring the prospect of a pay raise and promotion, then reached in and pressed a button that closed the doors. The elevator was silent, but Chad could feel the G-force pressing against the soles of his shoes. The doors opened again and Chad stepped out into Salazar’s office suite. He walked briskly toward the door he remembered from his last visit, opened it, and went into the combination office and boardroom.

  He stood there without speaking. Salazar sat at his desk, his massive head bent over paperwork. After a moment he looked up and furrowed his brow. Chad had to admire the man’s steely self-discipline. Salazar’s scowl got impossibly deeper, but he didn’t miss a beat.

  “Is this some sort of joke?” he said.

  “Only if you think it is, Mr. Salazar.”

  Hearing a close approximation of his voice caught his attention. He stood up, came around the table and approached Chad, who tensed, expecting Salazar to get physical. But instead, he stuck his face into Chad’s, and said, “Leonidas?”

  “Good call, Mr. Salazar,” he said in his natural voice.

  Salazar turned and went back to his desk. He told Chad to take a seat. “I could have you killed, you know. One touch of my finger on a button will summon men who will take you away.”

  “I understand that.”

  “So why did you come here? Did you think I’d be amused by your antics?”

  “No,” Chad said. “I came here because I needed work. And I wanted to remind you in the best way that I could, why you hired me in the first place. I’m good at getting into places where I haven’t been invited.” He glanced around at the mining mural. “Places like this.”

  Salazar sat back in his chair and tented his fingers. Narrowing his eyes, he said, “You caused me a great deal of trouble with your incompetence.”

  “I’ll admit it. I screwed up. I underestimated Hawkins. Nobody warned me about him. Next time he won’t be so lucky.”

  “I have bigger fish to fry than Hawkins.” He paused in thought, then he smiled. “I may be able to use you for an operation where your shape-shifting talent will come in handy. “

  “I’m up for anything, Mr. Salazar. When do I start?”

  “About twenty-four hours from now. I’ll let you know the details as soon as I work them out. You have work to do before then. You’re going to have to do something about the eyes. They’re the wrong color, but contacts can fix that. And you’ll have to work on the voice. You’ve got the tone and the inflections, but not the delivery. A keen ear would notice the difference. That suit looks like it came off the rack at a flea market. I’ll have my tailor come up with something that fits.”

  “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “I’ve never been accused of being vague or imprecise, Leonidas. And I don’t like repeating myself. But I’ll make an exception in this once instance. Yes, I am saying what you think I’m saying. I want you to be Viktor Salazar.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  On the ride into the city Abby peppered Hawkins and Calvin with questions about the recon mission. She absorbed every detail, from the description of the castle walls to the shape and size of the drone. By the time they reached the boat that would be their unofficial command center, she had analyzed the possibility of success and balanced it against the probable rewards.

  “I don’t mean to be pessimistic, Matt,” she said, “but the cost-benefit ratio doesn’t look good for Kalliste.”

  “You must have read my mind. Maybe our basic assumption is wrong and Kalliste isn’t behind those walls. Or, worst case, she might be dead, and that’s something I can’t accept.”

  “Then it’s something I can’t accept, either.” She glanced at Hawkins’ stony profile. “Kalliste’s special to you, isn’t she?”

  “Very special, but not in the way you might think. You know better than anyone how mean and crazy I got after the Navy cut me loose. I thought I’d flushed all the bile out of my system after I changed careers and landed in Woods Hole. But I was fooling myself. Every time my bum leg twinged where the doctors patche
d it together, the rage would come to the surface. It still does, sometimes. Kalliste understood that.”

  “Unlike your loving wife.”

  Hawkins could have kicked himself. Abby was still guilty about ditching him after she could no longer take his bitter outbursts.

  “Hell, Abby, I was the one who let you down.”

  Sitting in the back seat of the car, Calvin cleared his throat more loudly than necessary.

  “What say we work on the assumption that Kalliste is in the castle,” he said. “We know she’s been kidnapped, and that Salazar had a hand in it. Smartest thing is to figure out what to do.”

  “Sorry for subjecting you to our apology competition,” Abby said. “As usual, you’re a fount of common sense.”

  Calvin let out a whooping laugh. “If I had any common sense, I’d be back in New Orleans, strolling down Bourbon Street, instead of trying to figure out where to find a copy of Siege Warfare for Dummies.”

  “I’ve got a better idea,” Hawkins said. “Let’s do some foraging in the galley.”

  They climbed down into the cabin. Hawkins rummaged around the galley and found a bottle of drinkable wine in a cupboard and spicy sausage in the refrigerator. Calvin came up with rice, canned tomatoes and kidney beans. In short order, they were sitting down to a hearty meal. They talked about the Navy, mostly, three old friends and comrades sharing their fonder memories.

  After they cleaned up the galley, Hawkins set his electronic tablet on the table and played the video Chad had shot on the castle flyover. The video showed that behind the castle walls was an open courtyard surfaced with large, irregular paving stones.

  “I don’t get it,” Hawkins said. “The walls are protecting empty space, like a Hollywood movie set. There’s nothing there.”

  “Maybe it’s there but we can’t see it,” Abby said. “I met with Captain Santiago’s brother again to talk about the Inquisition deed that transferred the castle property to Salazar’s ancestor. I was curious about the references to the property being unclean or unholy. Francisco said the castle may have been built over pre-Christian ruins and that old pagan gods were thought of as demons. The deed was also written in the ancient Linear A script, which suggests a Minoan palace or temple.”

  “Are you saying that the castle is there to protect buried Minoan ruins?”

  “Castillo de Cuernos means Castle of the Horns. The bull was sacred in Minoan mythology. Can we take a closer look at the plaza in the center of the enclosure?”

  Hawkins zoomed in on the screen image. The enlarged photograph showed something that hadn’t been apparent on the more expansive view. Some paving stones were shinier than others. The stones with the sheen were not placed randomly, but were laid out in parallel rows that ran from one side of the enclosure to the other.

  “I didn’t know the Minoans had solar panels.”

  “Ground level is a funny place to put solar panels,” Abby said.

  “Maybe we’re not looking at ground level,” Hawkins said. “The last time I visited Santorini, Kalliste took me to see the archaeological excavation of the ancient Minoan town that had been buried in the Theran eruption. Let me show you what I’m thinking.”

  He Googled the town’s name, Akrotiri, and pulled up photos of tourists wandering through the network of streets lined by one and two-story buildings. Columnar steel supports had been placed throughout the ruins to support a corrugated roof. Translucent fiberglass panels built into the roof allowed light to filter through, casting the ruins in a soft ocher glow.

  “I get it,” Abby said. “We’re not looking at a courtyard. This could be a roof made to look like a courtyard.”

  “Figures,” Calvin said. “The castle walls kept the ruins hidden, but once planes and satellites were invented they had to cover it up somehow. Only way to confirm is to take a close look.”

  Hawkins tented his fingertips, and said, “Any idea how we’re going to do that?”

  Seeing blank looks all around, he said, “That’s what I figured. Time to get to work.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  Kalliste was living the dream of every archaeologist who’d scraped dirt off a piece of ancient pottery. She had stepped through a time warp, traveled thousands of years into the past and was seeing the Labyrinth not as a pile of reassembled stones that only hinted at its grandeur, but as it actually was.

  She would feel better if the dream had not turned into a nightmare. As Lily led her through the network of passageways and rooms, the Daemons padded behind them. She tried to pretend that the living griffins were simply very large canines. But the massive heads and cruel jaws, the skull-like faces and powerful haunches, were not likely to bring them “Best in Show” at Westminster.

  She touched the medallion hanging from her neck.

  Lily noticed the gesture. “You have nothing to worry about as long as you’re wearing the pendant.”

  “Your pets still make me nervous. Do they need to follow so closely?”

  Lily said something in a strange language. The hell hounds bounded off like spaniels chasing a rabbit and disappeared through a darkened doorway.

  “What language were you speaking?” Kalliste said.

  “A form of ancient Minoan. I told the puppies to resume their patrol duties. Well, what do you think of the Labyrinth?”

  “I’m stunned at its sophistication. Who built it?”

  “The first High Priestess and her followers. They wanted something greater than Knossos to please the Mother Goddess and to serve as the administrative center of a growing empire.”

  “It sounds like an old English Priory, where religious and secular interests merged.”

  “That’s exactly what Knossos was until the king went against the High Priestess, who conveyed the word of the Mother Goddess, and had to be disposed of.”

  Detecting a tightness in Lily’s voice, Kalliste changed the subject. “Why is it here in Spain, so far from Crete?”

  “The volcanic disaster had ruined the island. There were famines and civil wars. The High Priestess wanted to preserve the old ways. And for centuries, the dancers risked their lives on the bull court.”

  “You no longer do the bull dancing ritual?”

  “It became difficult to maintain a herd of bulls as in the old days. We chose certain rituals to continue and the People of the Axe prospered.”

  “The People. Is that what you call yourself?”

  “We who follow the Mother Goddess have called ourselves many things over the ten thousand years of our existence.”

  “I thought that worship of the Mother Goddess had vanished, except for a cult or sect here and there.”

  “You’ve seen too many episodes of Hidden History, Kalliste. We’re not a bunch of crazies beating drums and chanting meaningless mumblings. Our rituals are based in the natural world. We will continue to reap bounty from the earth as long as we make the Mother Goddess happy.”

  “You make it sound as if she is no longer happy.”

  “We have seen the signs of her anger. Mortals who ignore the demands of the Mother Goddess do so at their own peril.”

  “Mortals like Professor Vedrakis?”

  “The professor would have deciphered our sacred script. Our prime protocol is that Linear A cannot ever be translated by an outsider. The penalty is death. This has been going on a long time with others who got too near, like Ventris.”

  “He died in an accident.”

  “Did he? Well, we did our job well with that one. Robsham, too, going off that cliff. Bad drivers, these scholars. Don’t look so horrified, Kalliste. You bear responsibility for Vedrakis. His death could have been avoided if you and Hawkins had not pursued diving on the ship and recovered the translating device.”

  The chirp of a telephone was like a gunshot in the quiet precincts of the dead. Lily reached into the folds of her skirt and pulled out a phone. She glanced at the screen and a smile came to her saturnine face.

  “It seems we had visitors.”


  She showed Kalliste the photo of the man sitting in the cockpit of a helicopter. He had a smile on his face and was waving.

  “It’s Matt!”

  “Your friend must miss you. It would be rude not to invite him to visit the Maze and meet its guardian.”

  “Guardian? What are you talking about?”

  Lily responded with a lilting laugh. “I’m surprised that you wouldn’t know. The Minotaur lives here. Now, I have a request to make of you.”

  Kalliste was convinced more than ever that Lily was insane, but if she wanted to survive she would have to play along.

  “Of course. Tell me what you want me to do.”

  “I want to take a photograph to send to Mr. Hawkins.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Hawkins has our property—the translator—and I want him to return it.”

  Kalliste’s face flushed in anger. Lily was using her as bait. But she sensed an opportunity. She glanced around at her surroundings and moved a few steps so she was directly in front of the doorway to the apartment under the double axe-head lintel. She crossed her arms.

  Lily gave a sharp whistle. The two hell hounds shot out of the shadows. She spoke to them again in the strange language. The command must have overridden the signal from the medallion, because they growled and moved toward Kalliste from both sides.

  Lily used her phone to take a picture of Kalliste being menaced by the giant animals, then she called them off with another command.

  Kalliste was still trembling when she said, “Are you through?”

  “For now.” She called off the hounds and showed Kalliste the photo on her cell phone. “This should get your friend’s attention.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  Salazar called Chad, “Be outside your hotel in thirty minutes.”

  Chad had been waiting for the call, and was already dressed in a black sweatshirt, sweatpants and running shoes. Loose and nondescript. Standard hit man gear. Good for hiding weapons and confusing eye witnesses.