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

  Within minutes she had Salazar’s list of calls made from a mobile phone. There were hundreds. It would take days to analyze all the numbers. Instead, she used his phone to connect to his computer. File after file popped onto her screen. She clapped her hands like an excited child.

  She skipped over the files identified by numbers and concentrated on a few labeled with corporate names. None had appeared on the Auroch website. She guessed that Salazar didn’t want it known that Auroch had links to these off-the-books outfits. She hesitated, wondering if these files had the same level of protection guarding the corporate portals. Salazar was careful, but from what she knew of the man, he was arrogant as well. He’d never dream that anyone could get this close to him.

  She hoped.

  She decided to take the chance. She rubbed her palms together in anticipation only to pull back. First, she’d reward herself in advance with a snack.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  Abby had no illusions about the challenge involved in rescuing Kalliste. The operation was somewhere between foolhardy and insane. If anyone could pull off a mission this dangerous, it would be Hawkins and Calvin. But they would need all the help she could provide.

  While they were off on their separate errands, Abby had been alone in the galley of the boat. She sat hunched over a table that was covered with the notes and diagrams she had sketched out suggesting ways to penetrate the castle’s ramparts. She had blocked out the creaks and burbles the boat made as water nibbled at its hull, and was so intent on her work she didn’t hear the footfalls on deck.0

  Sensing she was no longer alone, she turned and saw Hawkins standing at the bottom of the companionway.

  “How long have you been there?” she said.

  “Less than a minute. I didn’t want to startle you.”

  “Sorry. I was totally engrossed.”

  “So I see.” Hawkins pointed at the 3-D diagram of the castle slowly spinning on the computer screen. “That looks like Castillo de Huernos.”

  “It’s a close rendition. I pulled the schematic together using the video you shot on your recon and combined it with material from the internet.”

  He sat next to her and gazed at the diagram. “If attacking armies had this program back in the Middle Ages, not a castle in the land would be left standing.”

  “Having a detailed picture of potential weak points would definitely have given the assaulting army an edge. They’d still have been stuck with the traditional siege tools. Fire, battering rams, catapults and starving to submission.”

  “After you left, I did some research on Minoan construction. Their engineers were far ahead of their time when it came to urban hydraulics.”

  “Moving water in and out of cities?”

  “I’m talking about cities, palaces and villages. Thousands of years ago their plumbing was more advanced than what you’d find in Europe in the late 19th century. They had indoor bathrooms and bathtubs. Their water systems had aqueducts, cisterns, filtering systems, ways to collect rainwater, and terracotta pipes. They knew about gravity, flow and pipe pressure. They brought water in from rivers and springs, built distribution and disposal systems that worked quite well.”

  Abby placed the scroll diagram of the maze in front of Hawkins.

  Hawkins studied the diagram. “What do you see that I don’t?”

  “Look at this opening in one wall of the maze. It’s in an odd place for an entrance. Now look at this satellite photo of the castle. See the faint double line running in from the river to the moat?”

  “A conduit of some kind to bring water into the maze from the river?”

  She drew her fingernail from the tip of the conduit, across the moat to the wall of the castle where the opening was indicated in the diagram. “Or it could have been a sluiceway that brought effluent from the maze to the river. Either possibility might provide a way to get close to or into the castle.”

  “If you’re right, we could land up-river and drift down to the sluiceway. Would the conduit be big enough for a man to pass through it?”

  “I can’t say for sure. Minoan water systems all have the same characteristics; a water main, cisterns or wells, internal distribution lines and refuse disposal. When the castle was built over the maze, a section of the conduit may have been removed to make way for the moat. The builders might have been satisfied with a plumbing system that was not as sophisticated as the Minoan design, but they would still need part of the sluiceway to bring water from the river to the moat. But if I’m wrong, even if you get from the moat into a pipe, you might find that it leads nowhere. All I can give you is my educated guess.”

  “Good enough for me,” Hawkins said. “Beats flying out of Calvin’s catapult.”

  She gave him a hug. “I can’t wait to fill Calvin in.”

  “He’s on his way. He texted me a while ago and said all went okay with his errand.”

  “I’ll start pulling things together.”

  “Good. I want to push ahead with the castle plan, but my talk with Lily Porter put a new spin on the situation.”

  Hawkins gave her a shortened version of his meeting.

  Abby shook her head. “I’ve seen Hidden History. It’s all crap. She prances around in a mini-skirt looking for vampires and ghosts. Maybe she’s trying out a new script.”

  He took the cell phone out of his pocket. “Someone sent Lily this picture.”

  “Dear God!” Abby said. “What are those awful-looking things with Kalliste?”

  “Dunno, Ab, but they’re not waiting for her to throw a stick. Check out the expression on Kalliste’s face. She’s hanging tough, but she’s scared.”

  “We’ve got to get her out of there damned fast.”

  He pointed at the 3-D castle image on the computer screen. “Can’t wait to tell Calvin that the way we’re going to get into that pile of rock is almost as crazy as his catapult theory.”

  They heard footsteps on deck, then Calvin’s voice saying, “Anybody home?”

  “Looks like you’ll have your chance sooner than later,” Abby said.

  Hawkins shrugged and called out, “We’re down here, Cal.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

  Kalliste felt as if she were crawling out of a coal pit. Although her eyes had blinked open, darkness encroached at the periphery of her vision. She pushed the shadows aside by sheer will power, slowly sat up and swung her legs over the side of her bed. Her lips were dry, she had a coppery taste in her mouth and her head pounded.

  She couldn’t understand why she had a super hangover. She hadn’t had a drop of wine. After downing a slice of bread, she had nibbled on fresh fruit. She glanced at the bowl and the partially-eaten orange. Of course. They had drugged the fruit and the wine. She swept her arm around in anger. The bowl and its contents crashed to the tiled floor. She was about to consign the wine jug to the same fate, but a gurgling below her breastbone warned that she had a more urgent Priority.

  Staggering to her feet, she rushed to the washroom and made it to the sink barely in time to disgorge the tainted fruit. She stuck her head under the tap and washed away the sour taste. Then she splashed cold water on her face and brushed her hair back with her fingers. Kalliste was glad there was no mirror. Her face must be a fright.

  Her captors wanted her out cold. If she had sampled the wine as well as the food she would have been in la-la land when they came to take her away.

  Kalliste went back to her bedside and used her fork to tear the blue fringe away from the tablecloth. She twisted the tassels and wrapped them around the fork handle to create a crude brush. She dipped the makeshift brush into the wine and drew an outline on the tablecloth of the Maze from memory that went back to her childhood days. She was ninety percent sure she’d got it right, even down to the bull’s head in the center of the diagram.

  Seconds after she hung the tablecloth in the shower to dry, she heard someone at the door. She emptied out the rest of the wine, dashed for the bed and pulled the sheets over her body.
Lying on her left side, she held the jug by its handle behind the crook of her bent knees. Through the slits of her slightly open eyes she saw the priestess enter and shut the door behind her.

  Unlike earlier visits, when she carried a tray of food and wine, the priestess was empty-handed. As Kalliste concluded, the last food delivery must have been planned as the final meal. That’s why it packed a drug punch. She clamped her eyelids tight. There were the soft footfalls of sandals on tiles, then she felt the brush of warm air against her cheeks and heard soft breathing. The priestess was leaning close to make sure Kalliste was unconscious.

  The warm air stopped. Next, Kalliste heard a scraping sound. She opened an eye. The priestess was down on one knee, sweeping pieces of broken pottery with one hand into another. She went to put the shards on the table, but stopped short and stared at the tabletop. Kalliste’s heart sank. The priestess must have noticed the tablecloth and the wine jug and figured something was amiss. Kalliste could imagine what was going through the woman’s mind. If the fruit and wine had knocked Kalliste out, when did she have time to dispose of the tablecloth and the jug?

  She looked straight into Kalliste’s face. Kalliste flipped the sheet back and swung the jug around in a short arc. The vessel shattered in pieces against the woman’s skull. Her hands went limp. The shards fell from her hands onto the floor. Her eyes rolled in her head and she keeled over like a felled tree.

  Kalliste vaulted out of bed. She picked up the table and held it high over the limp body, but the priestess was out cold. Kalliste slipped the axe medallion over the woman’s head and looped the chain around her own neck.

  She shimmied out of the flounced skirt and tossed it aside. The ankle-length garment would slow her down. She pulled the light outer skirt off the priestess and wrapped it around her waist. She couldn’t help noticing the ropey muscles and the thick calves. The woman was an Amazon who would have squashed her like a bug if Kalliste hadn’t put her out of commission.

  She thought of tying the priestess up with the discarded skirt, but she didn’t have time to figure it out. She gambled that the priestess would never venture out into the Maze without the protection of her medallion. Kalliste took several long deep breaths to slow the beating of her heart, then slid the door open.

  Waiting in the passageway like a couple of puppies eager to go for a walk were the two dog creatures. Even sitting on their haunches, the heads of the animals were at her eye level. Kalliste took a deep breath and started forward, only to stop. Damn. She had forgotten her map. She went back inside to retrieve the tablecloth. It took superhuman effort to march past the unconscious priestess, then out into the passageway again. The dog creatures pattered behind her.

  Kalliste tried to ignore her companions and concentrate on finding her way out. She made steady progress toward the center of the maze. She had to back out a couple of blind alleys. The foul-ups were more due to the slap-dash nature of the tablecloth map than her cartographic skills.

  Despite her fear and anxiety, Kalliste couldn’t help but appreciate the ingenuity and labor that had gone into the construction of the Maze. Knossos was like child’s play compared to this network of tunnels. The passageways were at least twenty feet across and she estimated the ceilings that dripped with moisture were around ten feet high. Lily said that the Maze builders could trace their origins back to Neolithic times.

  The Maze must have had its inspiration in the caves their ancestors called home tens of thousands of years ago. As perverted as Lily and her followers were, they had been the jealous guardians of rituals and language born at the dawn of civilization. Kalliste couldn’t wait to write a scientific paper. She almost laughed at her presumptuousness. Here she was, trying to make her way through a gigantic puzzle deep in the earth, followed by a couple of toothy monsters, and she had herself practically accepting a Nobel prize in science.

  According to her map, she was practically halfway through the Maze, approaching the large rectangle where the bull’s head had been drawn on the scroll. Because of the size and location of the space, Kalliste assumed that it might be the bull court Lily said was no longer used. She would make quick time across the open space, and pick up a passageway on the other side.

  The lighted tunnel jogged to the right and the left, then ended abruptly. There was nothing ahead but pitch-black darkness. Not a pinpoint of light. She brushed aside fears of falling into yawning pits. She would let her eyes get used to the darkness, allow her senses to take over and try to move ahead in a straight line. Keeping her hands extended until she encountered the wall indicated on the map, she would then grope her way along the surface until she found the opening for the passageway.

  She turned to check on her companions. They had disappeared. They must have fallen silently back as she approached the bull court. They were hideous creatures, but it wasn’t their fault. They had been bred as killers by humans who were the real monsters.

  She took a tentative step into the darkness, then another and another. She moved with more confidence with each step, thinking that this was what a blind person experienced every day of his or her life. The lack of sight heightened her other senses. Her nostrils picked up a musty, damp smell. From somewhere came the sickly-sweet scent of rotting meat. Her heartbeat ratcheted up at the prospect of stepping on a dead animal that may have wandered into the court, but she continued resolutely on, arms waving in front of her like the antennae on an insect.

  After a few minutes passed, Kalliste guessed that she might be halfway across the court, which is when she heard the scuffling noise from directly in front of her. She stopped and listened. A different sound echoed in the darkness.

  Clop-clop.

  The noise sounded like hooves on stone.

  Then came a snuffle and a snort. She was not alone. An animal was moving around the unlit court. She froze. Her mind was whirling. She didn’t know whether to make a dash for the opposite wall or turn back to the portal she had entered. The decision was made for her. The clopping moved around behind her, and when she turned, two blazing red eyes blinked on in the darkness.

  She began to run.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

  Chad stared at his ruined face in the mirror. He had come to think of the pale mass of scar tissue as a fleshy version of the blank canvas a portrait artist would put up on an easel. But this was different. The identity he was about to assume belonged to Salazar, the man he most hated in the world.

  He began to mold Salazar’s face over his own, improving on the hastily-assembled features that had got him past Auroch security. Tinted contact lenses took care of the eye color. Make-up hid the edge of the skullcap covering his hair. He evened out the flesh he’d added to his cheeks and chin. When he finished the transformation, he tried to replicate the distinctive voice.

  Salazar said Chad had the tone and the inflections, but his impersonation lacked depth. Chad was soft-spoken, a holdover from his Army days. Special Ops were trained to speak quietly on a mission. Chad still spoke in his drowsy, half-stoned surfer’s voice, but his acting school voice lessons had come in handy. He had a wide range and he could fit the tone to the disguise of the moment.

  He went through a series of vocal exercises that raised his speaking voice to a mellow tenor. His dry enunciation was impeccable. Although his impression lacked the brilliance that was part of Salazar’s natural speech patterns, he came close. He could elevate his voice a few octaves without sounding too feminine. His speech was penetrating but not loud.

  “Is this some sort of joke?” he asked himself, painting his question with amused scorn.

  Not bad. It was as far as he could go without putting himself through the same surgical procedure that had turned Salazar into a freak. He could never replicate the large bones of the rib cage that gave Salazar the added lung capacity to squeeze his powerful voice through vocal cords the size of a child’s. Nor would he want it.

  Chad would make his move at the rendezvous with Salazar. When the Mercedes pulled up a
t the log house, he would get out of the SUV and draw his pistol from its sock holster. He would shoot Salazar first, then tend to his men. Chad had practiced the attack in his hotel room. Four quick pulls of the trigger. Bang-bang-bang-bang.

  Salazar’s men were pros. They wouldn’t stand there with Shoot Me signs around their necks. They would fight back. He might die. He didn’t care. Maybe it was the loss of his girlfriend. Or maybe he had come to terms with the destructive uselessness of his life. A peaceful feeling had come over his mind since his decision to kill Salazar. He would do so no matter the cost.

  Chad’s phone chirped. Speak of the devil.

  “The time has come,” Salazar said. “We’ll pick you up at your hotel in thirty minutes.”

  Chad took a deep breath and expelled the words through his constricted larynx. “I’ll be ready, Mr. Salazar.”

  There was silence at the other end of the line, then Salazar said, “You’ve been working at it, I see.”

  “You told me I had the tone and inflections. Now do I have the depth?”

  “That would never be possible, but it’s close enough for our purposes. Thirty minutes.”

  Chad hung up. Being in Salazar’s skin was creepy enough. Speaking in his voice was even worse. He got into his black running suit and tucked his pistol into the sock holster. He pulled the baseball cap low over his face and laced up his sneakers. He used the stairs to get to the ground floor and crossed the busy lobby with his head down. Anyone giving him a second look would see only a man dressed as if he’d been using the hotel’s fitness center.

  The Mercedes SUV picked him up at the curb exactly on time. Salazar wasn’t in the vehicle. The rear door opened, a man emerged and motioned for Chad to get inside next to another of Salazar’s thugs. The first man got in after Chad, sandwiching him between two sets of wide shoulders and hard thighs.