The Granite Key (Arkana Mysteries) (21 page)

Chapter 32
– Happy Hour

It was a hot afternoon for mid-May. At least it would have been considered hot in
Chicago
but this was
Greece
. A little seaside town in
Greece
called Pylos. Leroy Hunt was sitting alone at an outdoor café fanning himself with his Stetson hat. Three local boys strolled by and noticed his outfit.

“Cowboy. Bang! Bang!” they said cheerily in passing.

“Right back at ya, pardners,” Leroy replied affably. He made a mock gesture with his thumb and index finger simulating firing a gun. The boys laughed and moved on.

Hunt briefly flashed on an image in his mind’s eye. He saw their smiles congeal into expressions of terror when he pulled out the Sig Pro pistol that was actually concealed in his shoulder holster. The thought amused him. He chuckled to himself. Too bad he was minding his manners this trip. He was ripe for a little dust up but he had to keep a low profile.

He took another sip of liquor and considered his plight. A low profile was one thing but he might as well be dead. He was bored out of his mind. No fun in trailing along behind Metcalf’s hangdog kid watching him scratch around in the dirt.

Hunt rolled his eyes in disgust. So much for special skills. His talents were wasted on this trip. It was small comfort that he was getting paid handsomely to do nothing. He craved some action to get his adrenaline pumping but it sure didn’t look like he was going to get any. A glorified babysitter was all he’d turned out to be. The next time that crazy old preacher man came to him with some work, he’d tell him where to go.

In the meantime, his days were spent cooling his heels at every taverna between
Thebes
and Pylos while he waited for the kid to turn up something. He’d learned a few useful words in Greek though. Roditis, Retzina. Man, those Greek wines really packed a wallop. Almost as good as the shine back home but ouzo was his favorite. It must be something like 160 proof. They even named restaurants after the liquor—ouzaria. A place where you could sit all afternoon and sip the stuff while they brought you snacks to go with it. Too bad they didn’t have any fried pork rind. He couldn’t bring himself to eat calamari. The dish reminded him of boiled rubberbands in glue. He sighed and drummed his fingers impatiently on the table and then looked at his watch. Four p.m. The kid said he’d meet him here at four but the little runt was always late. He beckoned the waiter to order another drink.

This whole trip was screwy. When they flew into
Athens
, two of the Greek brethren showed up to whisk them off to a Nephilim compound out in the hills. Leroy took a pass and made them bring him back to a proper hotel. He wasn’t going to sleep in a place that felt like a mausoleum for the living. Same as the compound in
Chicago
. All stone floors and squeaky clean silence. Besides, he figured Junior would be safe in the hands of his freaky fan club. They practically kissed the ground he walked on. They kept calling him “the son of the Diviner.” You’d think he was Elvis the way they carried on. No, Leroy was sure Daniel was safe enough with them.

The next morning he went out with the boy and his groupies to the first site. It was a heap of old ruins and they started crawling over rock piles like a bunch of dung beetles looking for their dinner.
 
The day was hot and dusty and after a few hours, Leroy decided he’d had enough of being sunburned and parched. He went to find the nearest taverna and did the same in every town they searched since.

So far nobody even remotely shady or suspicious had showed up to throw a monkey wrench into Junior’s plans. Per the instructions of the old man, the local Nephilim had gotten Leroy his favorite type of hand gun so he didn’t have to try smuggling one into the country. Not likely he was going to get a chance to use it though. Hunt felt it was safe to relax his guard and doze away his time in
Greece
in an alcoholic stupor. He just told Daniel to check in with him every afternoon. That way he could expend the minimum amount of effort to be sure the little punk hadn’t fallen down a rat hole or got himself killed some way.

Hunt looked at his watch again. 4:10. At that moment, Daniel sloped around the corner of the building and slid into the other chair at Leroy’s table.

“Well, son, glad to see you made it on time.”

The young man glanced around nervously. He was still wearing that creepy Nephilim get-up even though it was ninety degrees in the shade. A black suit and white shirt. He was clutching a black leather portfolio to boot. Hunt thought he looked like a demented Jehovah’s Witness with a briefcase full of flyers to stick on people’s windshields. Leroy flashed on another image involving his gun and a dead Bible thumper. “Any luck today?” he asked pleasantly.

The boy appeared apprehensive. “No, Mr. Hunt. Nothing. I’m beginning to get very worried.”

“Why’s that now?” Leroy scratched his chin, doing his best to sound interested. The waiter returned with his ouzo.

Daniel glanced up at the man and lowered his voice. “We’re running out of locations to check. Linear B tablets have only been found in four places in this part of the country. We’ve already combed
Thebes
, the ruins at Tyrins, and
Mycenae
. I’ve spent today at the local museum but there’s only one site left to check. I pray I find something at Nestor’s palace or father will be very displeased.”

“Yep, I imagine your daddy won’t be too happy with y’all if you come up empty-handed.”

The young man’s shoulders jerked tensely. “It isn’t just that father will be unhappy, Mr. Hunt. I would be failing God himself.”

Leroy lifted his glass to his lips and sipped his ouzo. “Son, you spend way too many waking hours frettin’ about perdition.”

Daniel made no comment. Instead he opened his portfolio and started reviewing the papers inside.

Leroy was just bored enough that he actually felt some curiosity about the boy’s mission. “What you got there?”

Daniel slid one of the papers across the table toward Hunt. It was a magnified photograph of one side of the stone key.

It took a moment for Hunt to get his eyes in focus. Too much ouzo or maybe not enough.

“The hieroglyphic markings,” the young man offered. “I expect to find them carved somewhere near the sites where Linear B tablets were excavated.”

“So that’s why y’all been crawlin’ over them ruins all the time or wanderin’ around in museums?”

“Yes.” The young man nodded. “The granite key possesses some markings in the Linear B language and some in hieroglyphic code. The only way to connect the two is to find the places where Linear B script has been found before.”

“Uh huh,” Hunt said knowledgeably. “And then what? What happens when you find them squiggly marks.”

“They will lead us to the treasure.”

Leroy’s head snapped to attention at that last word. “What was that again?” he prompted.

“The reason we came to
Greece
,” Daniel explained. “To find the heathen relics. The Bones Of The Mother.”

“You think maybe them bones might be worth somethin’ in cash money?” Even though Metcalf had told Leroy that the relics had no value, Hunt wanted a second opinion. The old man might have been lying. “Is that why your daddy wants you to find ‘em so bad?”

Daniel looked puzzled. “I don’t think so. I’m not sure why father needs them but I’m sure money isn’t a motive. I’m sorry. It was a poor choice of words to refer to the artifacts as treasure.”

Leroy immediately lost interest and lapsed back into his previous state of apathy. “Oh.”

The young man shifted his attention from his papers to Leroy’s hat. “Pardon my curiosity but I’ve never encountered one of the Fallen who dresses the way you do, Mr. Hunt. Or one who speaks the way you do either.”

“What can I tell you, son? My heroes have always been cowboys.”

“Were you ever a cowboy?”

“Nope, I just watched ‘em on the silver screen. I’d see John Wayne or Gary Cooper or, hell, even Montgomery Clift ridin’ off into the sunset. Man, that was a sweet way to live. Simple too. Wasn’t a single problem them fellas couldn’t solve with a gun.”

Daniel looked perplexed. “What silver screen are you talking about? Were those men you mentioned all professional cowboys?”

Leroy regarded him sourly. “I gotta say, your daddy left some big holes in your education, boy.”

At that moment, the waiter came back to the table and asked Daniel in broken English if he wanted to order something.

The young man recoiled in panic. “No, nothing, thank you!”

Hunt observed his reaction with amusement. “It ain’t poison, son.”

“I never partake of food or drink outside of the sanctuary.”

“Too bad. For a travelin’ man that just ain’t practical. Now what if you was to find yourself on a desert island someday and that there waiter asked if you wanted somethin’. What would you do then?”

Daniel squinted at Hunt, trying to make sense of the question. “Why would a waiter be on a desert island?”

Leroy waved his hand airily. “Never you mind why. Just answer the question. What would you do?”

“I don’t imagine I would ever have any reason to be on a desert island,” Daniel replied seriously.

Leroy reached into his coat pocket but stopped himself short of gripping the handle of his gun. He could dream, couldn’t he? A change of topic seemed to be in order. He wanted to get this interview over with so he could concentrate on some serious drinking.

“Well, what you got in mind to do tomorrow then?”

The anxious look returned to Daniel’s face. “My brethren and I are going to spend the day at the palace ruins outside of town. If nothing turns up there, I’ll have to call father and let him know.”

“Bet that’ll be a hoot,” Leroy commented ironically. “Then what?”

Hunt could see the reaction his question provoked. The boy’s pasty complexion lost what little color it had. Leroy wondered how a body could spend all day outdoors in the Greek sun and still look as pale as a fish’s belly.

“We’re running out of options. There are only two other known locations where Linear B tablets have been found. Those would be the palaces at Chania and
Knossos
.”

“They anyplace hereabouts?”

“No, they’re on the
island
of
Crete
,” Daniel explained.

“
Crete
, huh. They got ouzarias there?”

“Ouzarias?” the young man repeated blankly.

“Never mind, boy. Never mind.” Hunt brushed him off. “See you tomorrow around four.”

“Until tomorrow then. Good day, Mr. Hunt.” Daniel tensely gathered up his papers and left.

The amount of alcohol in Hunt’s bloodstream rendered him briefly philosophical. He hadn’t spent much of his life contemplating the fiery inferno. In fact he didn’t believe in it. But now that he was working for a cult that was obsessed with it, the nether realm featured prominently in his musings. This trip to
Greece
had convinced him that hell was real and he had somehow managed to land smack in the middle of Satan’s back forty.

Chapter 33
–
Knossos

Cassie and
Griffin
wearily staggered off the plane at the Heraklion airport on the
island
of
Crete
. The girl’s head was spinning and not merely from jet lag. Everything was happening so fast. It had only been three short days since Faye had revealed her plan and already they were in
Greece
.

At the last minute, Erik had been called away to handle an important relic shipment which meant he would travel separately and arrive later. Cassie was relieved. The thought of being trapped on a transatlantic flight with the Security Coordinator was unnerving. Ever since Faye’s pep talk he had maintained a sullen silence around her. While she considered that a good thing, it was tempting fate to assume he could behave himself all the way from
Chicago
to
Crete
.

Once
Griffin
and Cassie had cleared customs and picked up their luggage, they took a cab to the hotel where their Minoan contact was supposed to meet them. Cassie saw her immediately when the pair entered the lobby since the woman’s leopard print dress was hard to miss. It was the tall dark-haired trove-keeper from the Concordance meeting. Her name was Xenia Katsouris. At close range she appeared to be an attractive fortysomething with shoulder length hair, prominent eyebrows and hawk-like features. Not the sort of person you’d want to cross though at the moment she was smiling.

“Ah, I see you have arrived safely. Welcome to
Crete
!” She stepped forward to shake hands with them.

They walked together to the reception desk to check in though it was only 9 o’clock in the morning. They had agreed that sleep was a luxury they couldn’t afford and it would only make the jet lag worse. The trove-keeper waited patiently while they went to freshen up and stow their gear in their rooms. Half an hour later they were all seated together in the hotel restaurant drinking coffee and struggling to shake off their fatigue.

Xenia
smiled sympathetically. “It is a long trip, is it not? I just returned myself two days ago.”

“How do you do it?” Cassie moaned. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.”

“I am a very good actress,”
Xenia
joked. “I only appear to be awake.”

“Have the Nephilim been seen on the island yet?”
Griffin
asked worriedly.

The trove-keeper hastened to reassure him. “Do not concern yourself. I have sent several members of my team out to monitor Minoan archaeological sites. They tell me that no tourists are engaging in any unusual search activity. I believe we are still ahead of them.”

The Scrivener relaxed his troubled expression.

While Cassie ordered another cup of coffee,
Griffin
passed out sheets of paper to his companions.

“What’s this for?” the girl asked.

“These are enlarged photographs of the markings from the granite key. Study the line of hieroglyphics on each page. Those are what we’re trying to find.”

Xenia
perused the sheets. “Where do you propose to start the search?”

Griffin
hesitated a moment. “I brought along the field journal of the operative who first mentioned the Bones Of The Mother. According to the legend, the secret of finding the relics was kept at the high place of the goddess. It seems to me the most likely location would be
Knossos
.”

The trove-keeper nodded her agreement. “Yes, that would make sense.”

“What’s
Knossos
?” Cassie looked around for the waitress with the coffee pot.

“The ruins of a Minoan palace. The largest Minoan palace on the island,”
Griffin
explained. “Though palace is an inaccurate definition. The site fulfilled many functions, one of which was to act as a shrine to the Minoan great goddess. It might have been considered her high temple so the reference in the journal to a high place of the goddess may well refer to
Knossos
. Aside from that,
Knossos
is also strongly connected to the Linear B language. The largest cache of Linear B tablets found on the island came from the palace.”

“And you think we’re going to find these symbols carved into a rock at
Knossos
?” Cassie squinted at the photographs.

Griffin
sighed. “It’s a stab in the dark really. We have so little information to go on but we have to start somewhere.”

While the other two were speaking,
Xenia
had been studying the pages carefully. When she spoke, her voice held a note of concern. “So much of the palace has collapsed. Fire and earthquake have taken a great toll. Not to mention the reconstruction of the early archaeologists. What you seek may still be buried under piles of rubble.”

“I think it very likely that an inscription of this importance would have been placed in one of the ceremonial areas. Not in the underground storage rooms or the artisan’s workshops. We won’t have to cover the entire complex—just the central court, the corridors and the main chambers.”

“But do you not think that strange markings such as these would have been catalogued already if they had been found?”
Xenia
persisted.

Griffin
smiled knowingly. “Ah, but you see that’s the genius of the code. Look closely at these hieroglyphics. They are all common Minoan artistic motifs. The hourglass, spirals, meanders, dots, flowers, birds, fish and so on. An archaeologist who viewed them would consider them nothing more than decoration. It’s the arrangement of images that provides the meaning.” The Scrivener quickly sketched several symbols in succession. “For example, if I draw these symbols in this particular order, I’ve just spelled the word Potnia.”

“And that means?” Cassie prompted.

“Potnia,”
Xenia
explained, “is a Greek word which means the lady or mistress. In this context, it would mean the goddess much as Catholics would use the expression Our Lady to speak of the Virgin Mary.”

The girl studied the composite image
Griffin
had created. “So we should start by looking for this combination of symbols?”

“Actually you should look for this symbol first.”
Griffin
drew a picture of a flower. “It’s a lily and the sacred flower of the Minoan goddess. Look at the photograph with three lines of code displayed on it. The top line is written in Linear B and says ‘To find the Bones Of The Mother.’ If you look at either end of the inscription, you will see a lily. I would assume that the lily is the symbol we should associate with that message. It acts like a directional arrow to get our attention. ‘Look here’ is what it seems to say. ‘Pay attention. The symbols that follow will be about the Bones Of The Mother.’”

“Right, got it,” Cassie said. “Find the lily.”

Griffin
looked around the table to see if there were any other questions. Tentatively he asked, “Shall we get started?”

The trove-keeper stood up, retrieving her keys from her purse. “Come, we will take my car.”

***

Xenia
maneuvered her small Citroen through the narrow city streets and out into the countryside. Apparently,
Griffin
’s ordeal of being seated in a confined space wasn’t over. As if being crumpled in coach wasn’t bad enough, he insisted on folding himself in half so that Cassie could sit in the front seat of the car. It took nearly an hour to reach the site. As they motored down into a valley surrounded by green rolling hills, they were confronted with a sprawling multi-level hodgepodge of exposed stairways, two-story chambers, heaped stones and reconstructed pillars. After parking the car, they walked up a winding path toward the entrance. The palace had collapsed in many places exposing underground vaults and massive storage urns to the sky.
   

“This place is huge,” Cassie exclaimed in dismay.

“Yes, it is,”
Griffin
agreed, “but not to worry. We aren’t going to search all of it. The palace complex takes up approximately six acres of land and consists of over one thousand interlocking chambers. Parts of the original structure were five stories high. Calling it a palace is really a misnomer since it had a very different function than housing royalty. There are artisans’ workshops and food processing areas that contain grain mills and wine presses. It served as a central storage facility for the region and was very likely the religious and administrative center as well. At its height,
Knossos
and its surrounding countryside had a population of several thousand people.”

“You know a great deal about the history of this place,”
Xenia
noted approvingly.

“It’s what he does,” Cassie confided. “He’s a walking encyclopedia.”

 
“Hardly,”
Griffin
protested. “I’m sure to get at least a few of the details wrong. I’ve only been here once before as a child.”

“I think you are doing a good job. Please continue,” the Greek woman said.

He complied. “Very well then. As you wish. For Cassie’s benefit we’ll have a short history lesson. The site was first excavated by Sir Arthur Evans in 1900. Like Heinrich Schliemann who was convinced that
Troy
really existed, Evans believed the fantastic stories of classical writers that a great civilization had once flourished on the
island
of
Crete
. He set about proving it and unearthed the treasures of a culture which was unlike anything else in the ancient world. Even though
Greece
and
Rome
owe most of their cultural advancement to what came before in Minoa, it’s still quite distinct.”

“Really?” Cassie was intrigued. “What makes it so different?”

“A great many things,”
Xenia
said. “You will see as we walk along.”

“Let’s talk about where
Knossos
is situated for a start,” suggested
Griffin
.

“Why?” Cassie asked in surprise. “It doesn’t look all that different from pictures I’ve seen of other ancient ruins.”

“Location, location, location,”
Griffin
hinted.

Cassie raised an eyebrow. “It looks like a great location to me. Rolling hills, lots of greenery.
 
A photographer would love this place.”

They were standing in the middle of an area that was called the central court.

“Let’s pause here for a moment,”
Griffin
suggested. “Try to look at the location from an overlord perspective and you’ll understand what makes this place different.”

Cassie turned in a semi-circle, surveying the area. After a few moments, she shrugged and gazed at the Scrivener. “OK, I give up. What’s the problem?”

Xenia
smiled briefly.

Griffin
chuckled as well. “From a tactical standpoint, this location is terrible if you’re trying to fend off an invading army. It’s in a middle of a valley, exposed on all sides. There are no battlements, no fortifications, no moat. Nothing.”

“Then why did they build it here?” Cassie asked perplexed.

“Because they were not a culture that was in love with war,”
Xenia
said softly. “They were in love with life. When this location was first chosen, the people who lived here had nothing to fear from invaders. They lived in a peaceful land and this place was built as a tribute to the goddess they worshipped. Look here.” She drew Cassie over to a large stone sculpture that looked like the goalposts in a football stadium.