B00DSDUWIQ EBOK (30 page)

“Orlov.”

“Where
did you get that uniform?”

Orlov
looked at him, a glow of defiance on his cheeks as he sized up the situation. He
needed to get the man closer to him.

“I
took it from a dead man. He had little use for it, and I thought it would get me
to my destination a little easier.”

“Dead
man? You killed this man?”

“Of
course,” Orlov returned quickly. “I don’t think he would have given me his uniform
otherwise.”

“You
killed an NKVD Officer?” Molla’s voice was loaded with recrimination now, the slits
of his eyes more pronounced.

“Yes,
I killed him. He insisted on taking me to Novorossiysk, and I did not wish to go
there.”

Molla’s
hand never wavered as he held the pistol, and now he slowly moved his finger tight
on the trigger. It was a Nagant M1895, an old, reliable revolver dating back to
the days of the last Tsar. Orlov could clearly see the bullet laden cylinder,
and knew a round was chambered and ready to fire with one squeeze of Molla
finger, but he was heedless of the danger. All he could think of was getting
Molla closer.

“They
say you claimed to have orders for me?”

“That
was a lie.”

“Of
course it was. No one gives me orders here, except perhaps Beria, and he is not
around at the moment.”

“Lucky
for us both,” said Orlov with a shrug.

Molla
sensed something in the man, a strange kinship that was evident in his devil may
care attitude. He was holding a pistol on the man, and yet he did not think the
frank and direct answers he was receiving were born of fear. Most men would be
clearly intimidated, eyes averted, with that pathetic pleading look as they struggled
to find a way to prove their innocence. But not this man. No. He’s is unlike
any man we’ve hauled in for a good long while now. This one is a fallen angel,
just like me, dark seraphim, bound for hell and determined to start the fires
now while he lives. It’s as if he thought he was invulnerable!

“This
NKVD man was wearing that jacket?” Molla nodded to Orlov’s service jacket now.

“No,
that was mine. All I took was the overcoat and hat.”

“It
was yours you say? I have never seen anything quite like it.”

“That
was what Loban said at Gibraltar.” Orlov baited his line, wondering if the Commissar
would nibble.

“Loban?
You were at Gibraltar?”

“How
do you think the NKVD got hold of me in the first place? They had me under that
stinking Rock of theirs and Loban sent me on a little cruise.”

“I
see…” Molla obviously knew who Loban was, which was exactly what Orlov was hoping.
“You said the NKVD man wanted to take you to Novorossiysk?”

“I
suppose he wanted to turn me over to the military there. I’m a deserter.”

“A
deserter?”

“Navy.
That’s where I got that service jacket.”

“You
were an officer?”

“Chief
of the boat.”

“Of
course you know what we do with deserters. Yes? But a few more questions before
I kill you. Or perhaps I should leave you for the Germans, coward. Loban sent nothing
more?”

“Oh,
he sent a good deal more, but I had no use for it. I’ve come a long way and I left
the attaché behind.”

“I
see…” The commissar slowly lowered his pistol, resting his arm at his side, and
sat on the edge of his desk, just a little closer to Orlov now. “Just where did
you think you were going, Orlov? What were you doing at Kizlyar? Are you a German
sympathizer? A Spy? Were you trying to get through our lines to get to those
pigs?”

“Of
course not,” said Orlov hotly. “I’m Russian! I was looking for the pigs on
this
side of the wire, men who roust women and children out of their homes and truck
them off to places like this in the night. Men like
you
, Commissar.”

Molla
stood up very quickly, his hand tight on the revolver again. He had killed a hundred
men for far less cause than this man just gave him; interrogated thousands more
with seared and severed flesh. He was brash, young, and full of himself, and
now he had a strong sense that the man he had before him was of the same dark
order, a demon of a man who could kill without remorse, without conscience.
These were the most dangerous men in the world, he thought. I could use a man
like this…if I could control him. Then his righteous anger flared, as he
realized just what the man had said to him. Bound for hell or not, we still keep
order.

“You
stinking piece of shit!” Molla swore at Orlov now. “Tell me…Which eye should I put
the first bullet through?” He raised his pistol again, pointing it right at Orlov’s
forehead.

“Tell
me,”
Orlov said darkly, looking him square in those icy black eyes. “How
long can you breathe when I get both hands around your neck?”

Chapter 30

The
Duke sat at his desk, hands folded, a light
in his eyes that signaled determination. He regarded the man before him favorably,
good deportment, of seeming sound character, adequately trained and possessed
of skills that would be most useful. Now down to the matter at hand.

“Mister
Thomas, good of you to come so quickly.”

“My
pleasure, your Grace.”

“Indeed.
Well, I have a matter to put before you, the long term assignment I mentioned to
you at our last meeting. By the way, your delivery was certified and accepted
for processing and completion by tomorrow. I’m very pleased.”

“Thank
you, your Grace.”

“Now
then. I’m going to be taking a little trip. I suppose I should say a rather long
trip, and I would like to ask you to accompany me. Your role would be to insure
my safety, and secure certain effects I plan of transporting with me. You will
also act as my agent in all ways—my right hand man, as it were. Might you be
interested in such a position?”

“Sir…
I’m honored to even be considered.”

“Excellent.
But I must tell you, Mister Thomas, that this would be for a very extended period
of time. There would be no termination date. You would have to consider the
assignment indefinite. Given those circumstances the compensation would be commensurate.”

“Thank
you, sir. I deeply appreciate your consideration and I would be most interested.”

“The
situation would also find us incommunicado for the duration of the assignment. Should
you have any pressing matters that would require your personal attention…”

The
Duke’s raised an eyebrow, something Thomas had seen him do on a number of occasions
when his mind had reached an absolute conclusion on something. He was telling
him that there was no alternative. The position would require his full commitment.
Lord, he thought. A full time position with the Elvington estate! Right hand
man to his Grace, Duke Roger Ames! He was quick to clear the field of any
potential obstacle to such an appointment.

“I
am entirely at your disposal, sir.”

 “Good
then. We’ll be leaving very soon. Shall we say forty-eight hours? I have made all
the arrangements, however, if you have to settle any personal affairs, please
do so. I’m afraid I can’t be more specific as to the nature of the assignment,
or the duration at the moment. It will all be apparent to you in good time.”

“I
shall look forward to it, sir. And thank you for your gracious consideration.”

“Well
enough. You’ll be given information on where to meet me. I shall provide for all
your needs in regards to clothing. The secretary will ask you for sizing, but
if there are any personal effects you cannot be without, a small attaché would
be suitable. Thank you, Mister Thomas. We shall meet again in a few days time.”

Thomas
lowered his head in a polite bow and withdrew. The Duke watched him go, smiling
quietly. If you only knew what I’ve just given you, he thought. Compensation indeed!
The world we know will not last another week. It’s been a marvelous experiment,
a grand play, but now I’m afraid there is trouble in heaven that cannot be
resolved. Time for the Angels to make their leap to freedom, and you, my Dear
Mister Thomas, have just been given something few men on this earth will have
here in days to come—your life.

He
slipped his hand into his pocket, fingering the object there where he was fond of
keeping it. I shall have to find a more secure way to keep it handy, he thought.
A nice chain, simple, yet durable should fill the bill. The cool touch of metal
was very reassuring, and he took the object in his pocket out and held it up to
the light, smiling at the expert craftsmanship of the key. It looked like a
small black iron skeleton key, the outer metal weathered nicely to simulate
age, yet he knew the inside was a smoothly machined chamber that housed
something very special, something he would now rely on for his very life.

The
anomaly he learned of earlier had been very curious. He looked over the data very
carefully, and it was certainly suspicious, so much so that he flew to London
immediately to see it firsthand. The Duke was a trustee of the British Museum,
and had made lavish donations over time. He was fond of the place, and would
often spend long hours just wandering the halls and delighting to the exhibits.
There he could lose himself for a time, forgetting the mundane modernity of the
world outside and dwelling in better times in his mind. Better times.

So
it was that he received a most unusual call about one of the especial exhibits—the
Eglin Marbles—and he went to see about it directly. Doubting Thomas that he
was, he did not believe the first reports made to him. He wanted to see the
anomaly himself, and thoughts of the excursion now returned to him.

“Are
you certain it has not been altered in recent years?” he asked the curator.

“Absolutely
certain, sir. The piece has been here, in this very display case, for years now,
completely undisturbed.”

“And
was there any record of the damage, any sense of how it happened? No sir—at least
not officially. There would have been an insurance claim, of course, and we
could locate nothing of the sort. What we do know is that it happened in 1941,
during the time the marbles were being transported for protection. As you may
know, many were moved into the tube—but not all, sir. This one here was transported
to the United States for a time, aboard HMS
Rodney
, to be precise.”

“HMS
Rodney?
Isn’t that a battleship?”

“It
was, sir. She was built in the interwar years and served ably throughout the
conflict. Had a few very choice engagements, she did, sir.”

“Do
go on, Chelmsley. I’m assuming this has something to do with this damage.”

“It
does indeed, sir. The old girl found herself in more than one good scrap at sea,
but there were two battles of particular note. One was in May of 1941, which is
when we believe this damage occurred. If you recall, sir, that was when John
Tovey was running down the
Bismarck
. Old
Rodney
was scheduled for
overhaul and was actually supposed to be en-route to the US. She had a
contingent of war-weary passengers aboard, a goodly sum in gold bullion from
the treasury, and some very significant segments of the Elgin Marbles, this
piece in particular. They were all being transported for safekeeping, sir, but
the Germans got into it and the
Bismarck
sortie was most inconvenient.
Admiral Tovey had to pull
Rodney
into the chase, not that she was built
for such work. She might make 21 to 23 knots on a good day, but her boilers
were rather dodgy at the time. It was a miracle that Dalrymple-Hamilton—that
was her captain at the time, sir—was able to steer her right into the thick of
things and catch that German ship.”

“You
say this ship had it out with
Bismarck?”

“That
she did, sir, before Admiral John Tovey came up with
King George V
and settled
the matter. A battle at sea can be a rather rousing affair, sir.
Rodney
was
Nelson
Class, and she had big 16 inch guns all laid out in three turrets
on the foredeck.” Chelmsley extended his arms in a wide circle to illustrate
the girth of the guns, smiling.

“The
guns were so powerful that they damn near shook
Rodney
to pieces. Most of
the damage she sustained in that battle was self inflicted. That and the rough
seas at the time gave her cargo holds a bit of a good hard shake, sir. We think
the damage occurred there when one of the crates shifted and burst open. We
have it on report, sir. The piece was re-fitted, it seems, and must have been
done by someone aboard. Unbelievable as it may sound, sir, they just tamped in
a little mortar and put the chipped section back.”

“It
was not noticed?”

“It
may have been, sir, but we’ve no way of knowing that now. All we know is that no
fuss was made about it, and no insurance claim ever filed. But…well there it is,
sir.” Chelmsley pointed at the display where the Selene Horse sat in special circumstances
for a rare cleaning and inspection prior to the planned relocation to a deep
underground vault.

“The
damage was noticed again on this very inspection, sir. We might not have even seen
it except for all this war news prompting the relocation. ”

The
piece was a select sculpture of the famous Elgin Marbles, segments of the Parthenon
that had been transported to England by Thomas Bruce, the 7th Earl of Elgin
from 1801 to 1812. Some called him a savior for bringing such sublime art to
the shores of the Kingdom, others called him a vandal and pillager, the famous
poet Byron among them. In any case, the marbles were here, and the Duke had
always been very fond of them.

“Curst
be the hour when from their isle they roved,” said the Duke, quoting Lord Byron’s
poetry. “But at least they’re here, and largely in one piece. God only knows
what might have happened to them otherwise.”

“Precisely,
sir.”

The
Duke looked at the sculpture, still admiring the piece, perhaps the most striking
of the entire Elgin collection. It’s eyes still bulged with the veins on its
neck and face, the labor of a long night pulling the chariot of Selene, the
Goddess of the Moon, through the heavens. It was sublime. Well, brigand or not,
the Centaurs now battle the Lapith warriors here in Room 18 of the British Museum.
It’s a pity their struggle ends here, once and for all time. They’ve survived
centuries of strife and turmoil, but now there may be no vault deep enough for
what is coming next.

“And
the second engagement?”

“Sir?”

“You
say this battleship had
two
battles of particular note.”

“Ah…Yes,
sir. The second was a rather cloudy incident in the Med. She was with HMS
Nelson
,
her sister ship during a big relief operation bound for Malta. Something happened,
I’m not exactly sure what, but it sent both battleships and the whole escorting
force racing back to Gibraltar, leaving their charge early. It was most
unusual, but I’m told the ship encountered something very mysterious in that
campaign, and both
Rodney
and
Nelson
sustained damage that the
Royal Navy was keen to cover up.”

“I
see…Well, war is war. Secrets are secrets, and the two are often bedfellows.
Very good, mister Chelmsley. That piece there is the damaged segment?”

“It
is, sir. I’ve left it aside, but of course it’s the horse’s head itself you’ve come
to see. If you would be so kind as to put on these gloves should you wish to
inspect it more closely…”

“Of
course. That will be all now, Mister Chelmsley.”

“I
shall be right outside should you need me, sir.”

The
Duke waited until the man left him alone, then slowly pulled on the white museum
gloves as he regarded the small chipped segment that had been set aside. He
leaned forward, noting the curious depression in the stone, and was truly amazed
at what he saw. Could it be, he thought?

He
reached into his pocket, removing a small object and looking furtively about him
to make certain there were no surveillance cameras. Chelmsley had assured him
complete privacy for this special viewing, but he remained a naturally cautious
man.

The
key sat in the palm of his gloved hand, starkly contrasted against the satin white.
He reached out to steady the chipped segment as he placed the key into the
depression in the stone, amazed to see it was an absolutely perfect fit! The key
was now nestled snuggly in the chipped segment and he realized that a similar
object must have been embedded there at one time. My Lord! A key! In the Elgin
Marbles…

And
not just any key.

The
unique shape and coded teeth of this key made it unlike any other. He was one of
the very few privileged to hold one, though it was now clear to him that someone
else had deliberately placed another in this very sculpture—embedded within the
Selene Horse! Was it there when this segment was chipped off—perhaps during the
sea engagement Chelmsley described? Astounding if it was. Who could have placed
it there, ages and ages ago when the sculpture was first given life in
Classical Greece? And more, who might have taken it if it was discovered in the
hold of HMS
Rodney
in May of 1941? His mind was full of questions, and a
light of excitement was in them.

We
aren’t the first, he realized now.

There
were others…

He
reached for the key, putting it safely back in the special inner pocket of his jacket
and reminding himself to be sure to get that chain so he could wear it around
his neck beneath his clothing in the future. He must never be without it again.

That
thought shook him from his reverie and his mind now ran down particulars of the
arrangements. Everything seemed in order now. He had not overlooked anything of
any importance. The Duke was a very careful man.

Now
he was increasingly confident that all would work as planned. The tuning had been
very precise, or so he was led to believe. The location was now secure, all the
riff raff and commoners seen off to their dull, unwitting lives. It would be a
fine morning for the trip, and everything was ready. He would take the drive up
through Newcastle tomorrow and do a last bit of sightseeing. Then it would be
up and over the causeway beneath the Snook along the narrow neck of Holy Isle
to Lindisfarne castle. He would be sure to keep his appointment by arriving a
full day early.