Allison watched in horror as Payne tumbled down the chasm. A moment earlier, he had stepped in front of her and saved her from the muscular Spartan.
Now he was gone, she was alone, and Apollo was closing in.
Things did not look promising.
The last time she had fired a gun was at a summer carnival. And it hadn’t even been a real gun. It had been an air rifle in one of those stupid games where the goal was to win a prize.
Other than that, she had no experience with weapons.
She just didn’t like them. In fact, she hated the damn things.
But in this situation, she realized her gun was her new best friend.
Grabbing it from her belt, she pointed it at Apollo, who crouched low in the darkness. He held his shield in front of him, giving her nothing to aim at. All she could see was the tip of his sword and the red plume of horsehair that stood above his helmet.
Still, she knew she shouldn’t wait for him to get any closer.
So Allison pulled the trigger.
The gun roared, and when it did, it jerked wildly in her hand. The bullet sailed high and wide, nowhere near her target—a common mistake for an amateur.
Undaunted, she squeezed the trigger a second time but with a similar result.
She wasn’t even close.
Apollo smirked at her incompetence and raised his sword behind him.
With a mighty swing, he used the broadside of his blade to knock the weapon from her hand. Metal hit metal with a loud clang, and the gun bounced harmlessly to the ground.
“Stupid whore,” he growled in Laconian.
Then he lifted his sword again.
Payne scurried up the chasm like a wild animal. Blood dripping, muscles straining, fueled by pure adrenaline. His friends were in danger, and that was unacceptable.
At the top of the ridge, he glanced to his right and realized Dial was safe.
Spinning quickly, he searched for Allison and saw Apollo primed to strike. The Spartan leader was positioned perfectly. His shield protected everything from his knees to his nose. His helmet covered his head, and his greaves guarded his shins. The only gaps in his armor were the slits for his eyes and the sandals on his feet.
For Payne, it was a simple decision. He took the easiest shot available.
Aiming low, he fired three times at Apollo’s feet. The first round missed in the darkness, but the second and third shots hit their targets. The muscular Spartan refused to scream as he fell to the ground in agony. When he did, his shield dipped ever so slightly, and Payne took full advantage.
He steadied his weapon and squeezed the trigger with one thought in mind.
This Spartan needed to die.
73
After the battle, Payne and Jones looked at the map and determined the cave was less than thirty minutes away. That is, if the map was accurate. The truth was they weren’t sure how Schliemann knew about the treasure’s location. That hadn’t been revealed during their research. Still, they knew that Richard Byrd and the person who’d had him killed believed in the treasure. Apparently so did the Spartans—although all of them had died before they could be interrogated.
The group continued on in silence, some of them nursing their wounds. Dial held a cloth against his right cheek, which had been gashed by a Spartan shield. His ribs and back throbbed as well, but he never complained. Neither did Payne, who had a wide assortment of cuts and bruises from his tumble off the ridge. But as things stood, he’d fared a lot better than the men he had defeated.
As they climbed higher, Payne noticed a distinct change in the scenery. Trees were far less frequent, and flowers were virtually nonexistent. The same with grass and weeds. In a matter of hours, they had gone from the lush surroundings of the Aegean to a stark landscape reminiscent of the moon. Everywhere he looked he saw rocks and craters and few signs of life.
No wonder the Greeks chose this spot to hide a treasure.
There was no reason to come up here, except to get away from the world.
“Jon,” Allison called from behind.
Payne stopped and turned around. She was pointing at a spot to the east.
“Is that a cave?” she asked.
Payne shined his flashlight in that direction. From where he was, he couldn’t be sure. But it certainly looked like one. “Wait here. I’ll go check.”
“Hold on,” Jones said from the rear of the group. “I’m coming with you.”
Payne smirked and waited for Jones. “How’d I know you’d want to come?”
“If you think I’m going to let you discover this alone, you’re crazy.”
“Wait,” Allison said. “I’m coming, too.”
Payne lowered his head in defeat. “Fine! Everyone can come. The more the merrier.”
Dial smiled and patted Payne on his shoulder. “I’m glad to hear you say that. I was beginning to feel left out.”
Andropoulos nodded his head. “Me too.”
Payne laughed at their enthusiasm. No one had talked in several minutes, now everyone was begging to be included. Then again, he could hardly blame them.
He was also excited about the possibilities.
“Hey, Marcus,” Payne said. “You’re Greek, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What type of animals might live up here?”
“Wolves.”
Payne nodded. “That’s what I thought. Everyone stay alert.”
The group moved in unison, each of them searching the surrounding rocks for any sign of trouble. Above them to their left, they could see the towering peaks of Mount Athos in the pale moonlight. To their right was the steep slope that they had just conquered. Payne tried to imagine a forty-foot statue being hauled up the mountainside by the Ancient Greeks. It seemed unlikely. Then again, modern-day historians still don’t know how the Egyptians moved the massive stones that were used to build the Pyramids. So anything was possible.
Well, almost anything.
Because the closer Payne got to the cave, the more confident he became that the lost throne was not inside. It couldn’t be. At least not in one piece. Simple geometry assured him of that.
The mouth of the cave was roughly five feet wide and six feet tall. To get through the narrow opening, Payne had to duck down so he wouldn’t hit his head on the jagged rock above. Before entering, he shined his light into the interior and saw nothing but darkness.
No walls. No ceiling. Nothing but empty space.
It gave him hope that the cave opened wider.
Taking a deep breath, he crossed the threshold, wondering what he might find inside. He hoped it wouldn’t be similar to the last cave he had explored, which had been on Jeju, a tiny island in South Korea. The U.S. Army had asked him and Jones to investigate the disappearance of an ex-MANIAC, and when they arrived at the scene, the entire cavern had been bathed in blood. The stench of decomposition had lingered on their skin and hair for nearly a week.
Shining his light along the ground, he noticed a thin layer of gray dust. He crouched down and touched it with his fingers. It was coarse and similar in color to the natural stone.
“What is it?” Allison whispered.
“I don’t know. It almost feels like—”
Payne stopped and signaled for everyone to be quiet. Suddenly, the dust’s composition was less important than what he had noticed in its surface. A set of footprints.
He crouched lower and examined them. They were human and pointing forward. The person’s stride had been short and was accompanied by a secondary pattern on the left. It was circular and infrequent. Something man-made. Perhaps a walking stick. Or a spear. Payne couldn’t tell for sure. But he was certain of one thing: there were no tracks going out.
That meant whoever made them was still inside or had found another way out.
With a gun in his right hand and a flashlight in his left, Payne continued forward, striding over the uneven ground. Deeper inside, the cave opened slightly, its ceiling climbing to eight feet and i
ts width stretching to ten. Payne was appreciative. Not only could he walk upright, he also had room to maneuver in case he was attacked.
Jones was next in line, his light burning bright. Allison was third, followed by Andropoulos and Dial. The four of them crept softly, watching Payne as he braved the tunnel ahead of them.
Suddenly, he raised his hand and signaled them to stop.
The group obliged, hardly making a sound.
Up ahead, Payne could see a solitary figure sitting in the darkness. It was an old man, wrapped in a wool blanket. He was leaning against the back wall of the cave. A cane lay by his side. He looked frail and feeble, withered with age. His beard was long and unkempt. It rested on the front of his cloak like a gray scarf. His head was tilted forward, and his eyelids were closed.
Payne wondered if the guy was still breathing.
A moment later, he got his answer.
Without opening his eyes, the old monk spoke, his words barely rising to a whisper. “I wondered when you would arrive. I have been waiting for you.”
Payne grimaced in confusion. He had no idea who this man was or what he was talking about. He figured he might be a crazed hermit who lived in this cave.
“What are you doing here?” Payne asked.
The monk’s eyes sprang open. He stared defiantly at the flashlight, not willing to shield the light from his eyes. “I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to Nick.”
From the back of the pack, Dial heard his name. It took a few seconds for things to sink in, but once they did, he knew who was hiding in the cave.
“Coming through,” Dial said as he squeezed his way past the others. He made his way to Payne, who was still shining his light on the old man.
“Do you know this guy?” Payne whispered.
Dial stared at the man and nodded. It was Nicolas, the old monk he had met on his first night at Metéora. The same one who appeared, forty years younger, in the framed photograph at Great Metéoron. The one man he had hoped to find at Mount Athos. And now he had.
Of course, he never expected to find him like this—actually inside the mountain.
“Hello, Nicolas. I’ve been looking for you.”
The old monk smiled at the sound of Dial’s voice. “I thought as much.”
“You’re a tough man to track down.”
“I apologize. I have been busy.”
Dial turned on his flashlight. “Doing what?”
“My duty.”
He took a step forward. “Your duty? I’m not sure what that means.”
Nicolas grinned. “You have come this far. You must know something.”
“Maybe so, but I was hoping you could fill me in on the rest.”
“My pleasure, Nick. What would you like to know?”
Dial raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn’t been expecting such an offer.
But he planned on taking full advantage of it.
74
Dial crept closer, wondering what he should ask first. With so many questions, he didn’t know where to start. He opted for the very beginning. “Why were the seven monks at Metéora?”
Nicolas answered. “That was where we always met. It gave us what we needed.”
“Which was?”
“Protection from those who sought the treasure.”
Dial glanced at Payne and nodded. This was about the lost throne.
“Why weren’t you killed at Metéora like the others?”
“I did not arrive until after I was told of their deaths.”
“Why not?”
“Because I was not invited to their meeting.”
“But earlier you said we. You said Metéora was where we always met.”
Nicolas nodded. “I also said was.”
“You were no longer a part of the group?”
“Age has certain limitations. Travel is one of them.”
“And yet here you are.”
Nicolas smiled meekly. “I had no choice. I am the only one left.”
“The only one?”
“The only one who knows where we moved the treasure.”
“You moved the treasure?”
“Long ago. Long before these recent threats.”
Dial paused. “Hold on. If you moved the treasure, why are you here?”
“Why? Because this is where the Brotherhood comes to die.”
“The Brotherhood?”
Nicolas nodded. “That was the name we were given long ago.”
“By whom?”
Nicolas smirked and pointed to the back corner of the cave. “By one of them.”
Dial shined his light in that direction and was shocked by the sight. Hundreds of human skulls were stacked in a massive pile against the side wall. Many of them faced forward, creating the illusion that their empty eye sockets were staring at him. Fortunately, he did not scare easily. Or else he would have bolted from the cave.
He considered the presence of the skulls. “Were they your brothers?”
Nicolas nodded again. “All of them died with one thing in common.”
“Which was?”
“They died nobly, without revealing our secret. For that reason alone, they were brought here to share eternity. This is where we honor them. On our holiest mountain.”
Dial nodded in understanding. “Which explains why you’re here. None of your brothers are left to move your remains, so you came here on your own. You’re sitting in the dark, waiting to die, so you can rest with your brothers in peace.”
Nicolas smiled. “From the moment we met, I knew you were smart.”
Dial ignored the flattery. “Trust me, I’m not that smart. For instance, I don’t know why this mountain is covered with Spartans. Or why they killed your brothers.”
“The reason is simple. Over the centuries, many forces have sought the location of our treasure. Some of them were evil men, willing to kill us for our knowledge. Eventually, we opted to fight back. Blade against blade, blood against blood, all in the name of secrecy.”
“But you’re a monk. Doesn’t violence go against your religion?”
Nicolas grimaced. “Not if done for self-preservation. And that is what it was. We pursued those who pursued us, and struck them where they stood.”
“And the Spartans?”
Nicolas paused in thought. “Somebody struck us.”
“Any idea who?”
He shrugged as the color slowly drained from his face. “I was given no names, since my involvement with the Brotherhood was . . . fleeting. However, from what I have gathered, our treasure . . . has been the source of recent interest . . . from several collectors.” He paused to catch his breath. “Including some . . . from . . . your homeland.”
Dial stepped forward, concerned by the anguish on the monk’s face and his sudden shortness of breath. “Nicolas? What’s wrong? Are you all right?”
The monk wheezed. “I will be . . . soon.”
Dial rushed forward, worried that the monk was having a heart attack. He grabbed the wool blanket that was wrapped around the old man’s torso, and when he touched it, he realized it was damp. He didn’t know why until he ripped it off the monk.
Nicolas had a dagger in his hand and two large slashes through the femoral arteries in his thighs. For the past few minutes, he had slowly been bleeding to death while he calmly explained where he wanted to die.
By the time Dial noticed, there was nothing he could do to prevent it.
Everyone was stunned by the turn of events. All of them had been listening to Dial’s conversation, yet none of them had noticed the old man slowly dying in front of them.
His death—and his final message about the treasure being moved—was a setback they hadn’t expected.
“Now what?” Payne asked Jones and Allison.
Both of them shrugged, disheartened.
Payne pulled out his copy of the treasure map. “Why don’t you two take another look at the map? Maybe we missed something important.”
Jones shook his h
ead. “The map worked fine. We found the cave right where it was supposed to be. But there’s nothing in here.”
“I know that, but—”
“Jon,” Jones argued, “think about it. If the Brotherhood moved the treasure in the last century, it was after Schliemann died. So his map wouldn’t show the new location.”
Payne nodded. “I realize that, but who’s to say when the monks moved it. What if they moved it before Schliemann died? Maybe his map led us here for a reason. Maybe there’s a secret clue that will point us to another location.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
“Hey,” Payne said, “I know you’re disappointed and all, but we just climbed a mountain to get here. We’re not going back down until you’ve looked around some more.”
Jones groaned in frustration. “Fine! I’ll look around the stupid cave, but if a giant boulder starts rolling at me from the ceiling, I swear to God I’ll—”
He stopped in mid-sentence and cocked his head to the side.
Payne stared at him, waiting for him to finish his rant. “You’ll what?”
Jones ignored the question. Deep in thought, he glanced around the cave, slowly considering everything about it. “This cave is kind of small, isn’t it?”
“It’s no Carlsbad Caverns, if that’s what you mean.”
“No,” Jones said as he shined his flashlight all around him. “I mean, the damn thing is really small. If they used to keep a huge treasure in here, where in the hell did they hide it?”
Payne paused. “That’s a very good point.”
“I mean, I doubt they just left it sitting out in the open. That wouldn’t make sense. Not if the Brotherhood was as careful as they seemed to be.”
Allison looked at the mouth of the cave. “What about the entrance? Could they have concealed it with rocks and branches?”
“That’s possible,” Jones conceded. “But unless they did it just right, it wouldn’t have looked natural. And if you’re trying to hide something, that’s a dead giveaway.”
Payne stared at his friend, who had the slightest hint of a smile. “Hold up. Do you know where the treasure is?”
The Lost Throne Page 38
