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

by Paul Kemprecos

  “Climb in and we’ll be on our way,” he said.

  “We can’t go yet.” Hawkins told Calvin what Salazar had said about the automatic launch of the drone.

  “No problem,” Calvin said. “I brought some bug spray.”

  He slipped the gear bag off his shoulder and extracted the Spike missile and its launcher which he aimed at the metal insect sitting on its staging. There was a whoosh as the missile flew from the launcher and the drone exploded in a ball of yellow and red flames. He threw the launcher away and climbed into the helicopter.

  Startled by the explosion, the Demons turned away from their feast and ran back into the shrine.

  “I thought that was gator repellent,” Hawkins said.

  “Pest’s a pest.”

  His hands went to the controls. Within seconds, they were airborne. Calvin flew the chopper straight up, and when he had gained a few hundred feet of altitude, he hovered over the canopy.

  Another support had buckled, and the camouflage cover had split apart, producing an odd optical illusion. Where only the courtyard had been visible before, there were now glimpses of the shrine’s towers. Smoke bellowed from the entrance.

  “That slimy bastard,” Chad fumed. “The damned thing was a bomb.”

  “What are you talking about?” Hawkins said.

  “It was a jug shaped like the head of a bull. Salazar called it a rhyton but it was full of explosives. He ordered me to carry it into the sanctuary. Gave me a remote that I was supposed to press when the ceremony began. He said it would send a signal to break up the ceremony, but what he really wanted was to blow me and everybody else up.”

  Hawkins went to reply, but he stopped to stare at the Tripartite Shrine. The towers had collapsed and were disappearing into the earth. He remembered the foundation cracks he had seen throughout the Maze. The columns supporting the roof must have crumbled from the force of the explosion. The weight of the shrine was too much for the ceiling to bear. The remnants of the shrine would plunge to the deepest depths of the Labyrinth.

  “Like I told Salazar,” he said, “I’ve seen all I want to see. Let’s go home.”

  Calvin nodded and put the helicopter on a course away from the castle.

  Abby was sitting in the cockpit waiting for Matt to call in on the radio when she saw the helicopter approaching. She had disobeyed his orders to leave if he and Calvin didn’t call in. The deadline was an hour past, and the radio had been silent. Something had happened. That could only mean one thing. Matt was dead.

  Tears welled in her eyes. It was probably too late to escape the oncoming aircraft, but she didn’t care. She grabbed a spare CAR-15, stepped out of the cockpit and aimed, thinking that it was funny that the aircraft running lights were on and that it was turning side-to, offering an easy target.

  Screw it, she thought. She was about to set her sights on the Auroch bull horns logo on the fuselage of the chopper, now only a couple of hundred feet away, when an arm waved at her from the helicopter window. A familiar voice came over the radio.

  “Hoo-yah, Abby.”

  She lowered the weapon, and with the widest smile possible on her face, waved back at Hawkins.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE

  Molly was ecstatic when Hawkins called and said all were safe after rescuing Kalliste.

  He told her how he and Calvin had infiltrated the castle maze through the water system, and with the help of someone named Chad, had stopped a bunch of crazy cultists from murdering Kalliste. A deep frown came to her chubby face at the news Salazar was dead.

  “How’d he die?” she asked.

  “Um. A couple of monster dogs tore him to pieces.”

  “Serious?”

  “Serious.”

  “Hah,” she said. “It would have gone a lot worse if I got a hold of him.”

  Hawkins chuckled. “I’m sure that’s true, Molly.”

  “Dang. Guess it’s over,” she said.

  “I wish I could be sure. Members of the Way of the Axe are scattered around the world. Salazar and Lily are dead. But as long as Auroch Industries is in business, the possibility remains that they could rekindle this whole sick thing. Salazar talked about power on a global scale. He said he was not looking to the past, but toward the future.”

  “Is that what he said? Future?”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe I can do something about that,” Molly said.

  She hung up before Hawkins could say another word. She wanted to pull her thoughts together. She went down the list in her head.

  Salazar learns about the fusion process and becomes a generous supporter of the new energy source, even though it would put Auroch out of business. He puts money into an organization called FUTR. He sends an explosives expert to Cambridge where a formal announcement will be made of the new process at MIT, along with a demonstration of how it works.

  An explosion kills the scientists who have developed fusion and casts doubt in the eye of the unsophisticated public over the future of science that created it. It was the way Auroch had always dealt with rivals.

  Molly looked at her digital watch. The start of the energy forum was minutes away.

  She called up a map of the MIT campus onto her computer screen. Big place. She had to narrow it down.

  She got into the files she had downloaded from the phone retrieved from the attacker she was calling the “bird man.” He had visited the campus several times, but kept coming back to the same point.

  Kresge Auditorium.

  She looked at a photo of the Saarinen-designed auditorium. Its distinctive rounded roof was an eighth of a sphere, made of reinforced thin shell concrete, with sheer glass curtain walls. The demonstration would be held in the concert hall of Kresge. A bomb blast would have devastating impact, testing the spirit of ‘Boston Strong,’ the motto that described the city’s resilience after the Marathon terrorist attack.

  She thought about what Hawkins had told her, that Salazar got someone to smuggle a bomb into the Maze. Guys like Salazar don’t change their spots. He would do the same thing in this case. The bomb could be any innocent-looking object.

  The speeches would come first, then the demonstration. The speakers stood at a podium. Good place to stash a bomb.

  She went back over the credit card records of the bird man and saw the charge for the rental truck and another for a sign painter. Using an untraceable phone, she called the sign painting company, said she had seen the job they had done. Using the bird man’s name, Sutherland said that she wanted something similar for her food truck.

  “Cain’t remember the exact wording.”

  They checked their records, and said, “Acme Office Supply.”

  Not very imaginative. “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll be calling you.”

  The bomb would have to be triggered at the precise moment during the demonstration. With the bird man dead, that wouldn’t happen. Something nagged at her. She went back to the credit card and saw that the bird man charged two dinners and lunches on several occasions. He had an accomplice.

  They had kept the truck under rental. She guessed that the accomplice could sit in the truck watching the broadcast on his tablet; at the correct time, he’d make a telephone call that would trigger the bomb. She hoped the speakers would be long-winded. In the meantime she tapped away at her keyboard. Her fingers were a blur. Sweat poured down her forehead and into her eyes.

  She kept an ear open to the TV volume and heard that the professor had ended his speech.

  She glanced at the TV screen. The speaker had stepped away from the podium.

  He smiled broadly, and said, “Now I will turn this over to my colleagues to demonstrate a discovery that will revolutionize the delivery of non-polluting cheap energy to the farthest reaches of the globe.”

  She punched the keyboard one more time. The television screen flickered and went dark. She had hacked the Cambridge power grid and stopped the demonstration in its tracks. She knew she had only bought some time. She had to ge
t the auditorium evacuated and the bomb disabled. She looked up a number and called it.

  A man answered. “Bomb squad.”

  “You’d better clear out Kresge Auditorium in a big hurry and get your bomb-sniffing dogs to the podium before the lights come back on.”

  “Are you saying there’s a bomb at MIT?”

  “Yup. Bomber’s going to trigger an explosion from an Acme Office Supply Truck. Keep an eye out for him.”

  “May I have your name, please?”

  She paused, smiled, and before she hung up, said,

  “The name is Gowdy.”

  EPILOGUE

  Two weeks later

  As soon as Hawkins returned to Woods Hole he picked up the pieces of his life. His first task was to reacquaint himself with Quisset. Uncle Snowy had spoiled the dog, but when Hawkins came by to take her home she jumped right into his truck and snuggled against him.

  He was biking every day. Spending time at home surrounded by his collection of antique dive gear. Spain was all a blur. The flight back to Cadiz. Chad disappearing at the airport. The trip to the hospital where Kalliste was diagnosed as dehydrated but otherwise in good shape. The ocean glider project was on track and the pay-off was making its way to his bank account. It might just cover the deductible the insurance company wanted him to pay for Falstaff’s loss, but it was good to be back in the rhythm he’d become accustomed to.

  He hadn’t heard a whisper from Kalliste since they’d said goodbye in Spain, so he was pleased when the padded envelope arrived in his mail with her Santorini address on the outside. Inside the envelope was a plastic baggie containing a coin and a note. The coin appeared to be made of gold and was irregular around the edge. Pictured in relief on one side was the profile of a man. The flip side had the image of a dove.

  The note said: Skype me anytime.

  With Quisset at his heels, he climbed the stairs to his upstairs office, connected to the Skype function of his computer, and clicked on Kalliste’s address. Her smiling face appeared almost instantly. She looked rested and happy.

  “How wonderful to see you, Matt! Sorry I didn’t contact you earlier. I’ve been hard at work on my lexicon of Linear A.”

  “No apology needed, Kalliste. You must have a pile of work to do.”

  “I’m putting in twelve-hour work days and loving every minute. This will be an on-going project for years to come. The computer translation program has accelerated my work tremendously. The writer, luckily, wrote in simple declarative sentences, using a tightly spaced script, so there’s a lot of information. I have deciphered the scroll and confirmed that it was written by the second in command to King Minos.”

  “The mysterious Minotaur?”

  “He was in the thick of things. He confirms that the Theran eruption here on Santorini sparked a civil war between the king and the High Priestess and her brother. Rather than offer his only child for sacrifice as the priestess demanded, he ordered his commander to take the girl to safety.”

  “Which is how they landed in Spain.”

  “They were heading to Egypt but the priestess was catching up, so they sailed to Spain hoping to throw her off. The priestess followed. There was a sea battle. His ship, the one we dove on, sunk, but he escaped in a sailboat. He made landfall, married the girl’s nanny, and they went into hiding. The king’s daughter married and had children, of which I am a descendant.”

  “It’s fortunate for both of us that the girl survived. Otherwise we never would have met.”

  “That’s sweet of you, Matt. It’s also lucky the Minotaur kept a journal at the order of the king. The scroll was passed down from generation to generation. By the time my grandfather had it, there was no one left in the family who knew how to read Linear A.”

  “Any indication when the Salazars entered the picture?”

  “Minotaur said that the ship with the High Priestess and her brother-consort was damaged but made it to shore. The Salazars helped them take over the Minoan mining colony that grew into Auroch Industries, allowing them to keep the sacrificial ritual intact. The Minoans and the Salazars had a symbiotic relationship that lasted centuries.”

  “Apparently that relationship wore thin.”

  “It was bound to. The Salazars were used as enforcers. My guess is that some family members were allowed into the inner sanctum only after male mutilation, which rendered them neutered.”

  “Salazar didn’t strike me as an old tabby cat.”

  “He wanted the reward for his sacrifice, which was complete control of Auroch. He may have wanted revenge as well.”

  “How did Minotaur know the layout of the Maze that was on the scroll?”

  “He sent spies all over Europe to keep an eye on the priestess and her gang. Some of them helped build the Maze that would later form the foundation of the castle.”

  Hawkins thought back to the flawed construction that he’d seen in the Labyrinth. “Maybe the Minotaur’s men supplied the lousy concrete that brought it down.”

  “We’ll never know, but it would be sweet to learn that the Minotaur was responsible for the collapse of the Maze.”

  “Any indication what happened to Minotaur?”

  “Nothing in the scroll. But I recalled a strange mound on my grandfather’s vineyard. I was warned to stay away from it. Grandfather said there were ghosts. It’s approximately the size and shape of a Minoan burial chamber. The Minotaur said he wanted to be returned to Crete after his death. Maybe he got his wish. And maybe the scroll came with him. I think my Papou knew more about what was under the mound than he let on.”

  “The Minotaur’s tomb would be a fantastic discovery.”

  “I won’t be the one to make it. Minotaur deserves a peaceful rest for his devotion to the man whose profile is on the coin I sent you.”

  “I suspected it was ol’ King Minos. Thanks for the present. Where did you find it?”

  “Remember the reference in the scroll to more than one treasure? The king’s daughter was the first. The Minotaur left directions to the second treasure. The coin was part of it.”

  “You’re making my head spin, Kalliste. You found an actual treasure?”

  “I will say no more than this. I have exorcised parts of the scroll that deal with the second treasure from my translation.”

  “I don’t understand, Kalliste. Why do that?”

  “My country is in dire financial straits. People would gladly plunder their heritage to make up for their own foolishness. I must admit to plunder myself, thus the coin, but if you tell anyone where you got it, I’ll deny it. Call it partial payment for all your help, Matt. Hope we will work together again.”

  “I’m sure we will, Kalliste. Good luck.”

  She smiled once more and the Skype connection was gone.

  Hawkins was staring off into space, trying to absorb the enormity of what Kalliste had told him, when he heard Abby call from the first floor. He tucked the note and the coin into a drawer and locked it, then went downstairs. Abby was standing in the foyer holding a sea bag. She was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt and cap with ‘Navy’ on it.

  “First Mate Abby reporting. Ready to go?” she said.

  “Aye-aye, mate. Snowy gassed up the yacht for us.”

  They got into the pick-up truck with Quisset, drove to Eel Pond and rowed out to the Osprey. The Water Street drawbridge was raised and they cruised out to the harbor on a course for Martha’s Vineyard where they would stay the night before heading to Nantucket. When he’d extended the weekend invitation, he said it wasn’t the Greek Islands cruise she’d asked for.

  “Just promise me that guys with blue heads won’t be chasing us all over the place. Ugh. Do you think those crazies are done for good?”

  “There’s a good chance. Auroch Industries has gone under. The company was the financial support for the Way of the Axe. The bomb-sniffing dogs found the explosives and the cops rolled up Salazar’s triggerman. The fusion discovery announced at MIT has a long way to go, but it’s another n
ail in the coffin holding the Auroch corpse.”

  “I hope so. What’s new from Calvin and Molly?”

  “Calvin has decided to return to field work. Worried that he’s losing his edge. Molly’s back into bird photography. She sent me a photo of a Golden eagle sitting on a nest. She seemed quite happy. Said she will enjoy being a grandmother.”

  “What on earth did she mean?”

  He shrugged. “Who knows? This is Molly we’re talking about.”

  The weather was superb, with fair winds, blue cloudless skies and temperatures in the high seventies. They sat on the beach at Katama and walked the cobblestoned streets of Nantucket. At night they became reacquainted with each other’s bodies. After a passionate few days on the high seas, they chugged back to Woods Hole tanned, tired and happy. As usual, their relationship had fallen into an affectionate limbo.

  “Where do we go from here?” Abby asked, as Hawkins tied up to the mooring.

  “Anywhere you want to go. North to Maine. South to Florida.”

  “That’s not what I meant, Hawkins.”

  “I know what you meant. I was trying in my clumsy male way to avoid discussion of a commitment.”

  She sighed. “That’s progress, I guess. In other words, we’re still on but not really.”

  “I think it’s more than that, Abby.”

  She threw her arms around him and gave him a long kiss. “Keep in touch, Matt.”

  “I will. That’s a promise.”

  “Good. Now promise you will call immediately the next time you get into trouble.”

  “You have my word.”

  She smiled. “In that case, I hope you get into trouble very soon.”

  Hawkins missed Abby from the moment she left. He buried himself in work, and rather than go home to his big, lonely house after leaving his harbor side office that night, he walked across the fog-shrouded street to the Captain Kidd. He joined his team from the ocean glider project and talked about working together again. He stayed after the others had left and was sitting under the mural of the pirates, wondering whether to have another beer, when the waitress came over with a foaming mug.