Maze of Death

by Philip Caveney

  For a moment, he gave in to his fate and stopped struggling. He continued to sink, weighed down by the now useless apparatus that enclosed him. How much easier, he thought, to accept that he had failed and that he was about to die . . .

  But a last stubborn instinct rose up in him and he gave the release strap one final wrench. Suddenly, his arms were free; he was struggling out of the flying apparatus and kicking towards the surface, his oxygen-starved lungs on fire. It still seemed like an impossible distance to the light . . .

  But he broke through, gasping for breath. The hot sun burned high above him and a few sea birds wheeled and soared in the air, their calls reminding him of lost children calling for their mothers. He stayed where he was for a moment, treading water, trying to calm himself. He turned round until the island of Crete was in his sights and he tried to estimate whether or not he was capable of swimming such a distance. And then he became aware of a dark shape rising in the water below him. Once again, fear held him in an icy grip. He did not think there were sharks in these waters, but he could not be sure. His father had often warned him about the Portuguese men-o-war, the huge jellyfish-like creatures that teemed in these parts and whose stinging, poisonous tentacles could bring excruciating pain, but he was fairly sure that they stayed on the surface of the water . . . and this was surely bigger than any jellyfish in existence.

  The dark shape rose higher in the water and then surfaced just a few feet in front of him. He almost laughed with relief. It was one of the wings of the Daedalus, broken away from the main structure, its light wood-and-canvas design floating easily on the still surface. Stephen swam towards it and grabbed the wooden frame, telling himself that the Daedalus might yet guide him to land.

  With his unexpected float tightly in his grasp, he aimed himself at the faint bluish smudge on the horizon that was Crete and began to kick his legs, moving steadily forward through the water . . .

  ‘Coates, I gotta say that was pure genius,’ said Ethan. ‘Wolfe’s face when you grabbed that table was an absolute picture!’

  Back in their quarters, Alec, Ethan and Coates were celebrating their small victory with a goblet of wine apiece. Although Ethan had been told that his challenge would come tonight, for the moment they were trying not to think about it. The thought of the professor’s horrible death was still heavy on their minds.

  Coates shrugged. ‘It gave me some satisfaction,’ he admitted. ‘But at the end of the day, we’re still prisoners and we still have no way of getting these things off.’ He indicated the metal collar around his neck. ‘So long as we wear them we are completely at Wolfe’s mercy.’

  Alec nodded. In their spare moments, they had tried everything they could think of to get one of the things open, like prising them apart with a table knife, but the fiendishly clever construction of the collars had defeated them every time.

  ‘There has to be some way of opening these things,’ said Ethan flatly. ‘My guess is that Lee must have some kind of key on him. If we could just catch him by surprise one time, punch him out before he has a chance to fiddle with whatever contraption he wears under that tunic.’

  ‘It’s too risky,’ said Coates. ‘We’ve had enough demonstrations of what happens when Wolfe gives him the word. Lee seems not to have the least bit of humanity in him. He’d strangle a newborn baby if Wolfe gave the order.’

  ‘I’m not so sure,’ said Alec. ‘I think I’ve seen something different in him.’

  Ethan and Coates stared at him in surprise.

  ‘If you can find redeeming qualities in that monster,’ said Coates, ‘you’re a better man than I am.’

  Alec persisted with his theory. ‘Remember when I asked him about his burned hand? He seemed to soften a little. And just now, when you pulled that stunt with the table, he was looking at you as though he . . . really respected you.’

  Coates laughed flatly. ‘Master Alec, I fear you are a terrible judge of character. I fail to detect the least bit of compassion in that man. He’s like a machine – cold, ruthless and totally devoted to carrying out Wolfe’s orders.’

  ‘And can you wonder why?’ argued Alec. ‘What has he received from Wolfe all his life, other than beatings and cruel words? It seems to me that anyone in his situation might just respond to a little kindness.’

  ‘What are you suggesting?’ asked Ethan. ‘That we bake him a cake and give him a nicely worded greetings card?’

  ‘Of course not. But think about it. Lee is the real power on this island. He’s the one who can end our lives any time he wants to. Wolfe is a joke – a flabby, ageing madman who thinks he’s the reincarnation of King Minos. If he had to fight any one of us, I doubt that he’d last five minutes. He’s like the school bully who employs bigger, tougher boys to carry out his orders. If we could somehow get to Lee – convince him that he’s entitled to a life of his own – then maybe we could persuade him to help us.’

  Ethan shook his head. ‘We already know we’re not the first people to be caught up in Wolfe’s sadistic games,’ he said. ‘Remember Lieutenant Sideras, that first night in Crete? He said he was investigating several disappearances in the last two years. It doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes to work out what happened to them; and I don’t expect Lee showed them any mercy.’

  ‘Even so . . .’ Alec took a sip of his wine. ‘I think it’s worth a try. If one of us can get to Lee, reach the tiny part of him that’s still human, then maybe we’ve got a chance. It’s not much, but it’s a hope.’

  Coates brightened. ‘And let’s not forget about Stephen,’ he reminded them. ‘If he got across to Crete, he could be back with help in a matter of hours.’

  Ethan looked doubtful. ‘That flying machine is pretty amazing,’ he admitted, ‘but we’ve got to be realistic. It’s a long way to Crete, and the only power he had to take him there was his own arms. I can’t help feeling it would need a miracle for him to get safely across.’

  Alec sighed. He didn’t want to believe it, but in his heart he was sure that Ethan was right. He remembered the tiny speck speeding across the vast expanse of the sea, already dangerously low in the air and looking insubstantial against the blue backdrop of the sky.

  ‘We mustn’t give up hope,’ said Coates stubbornly, and Alec and Ethan nodded. But nobody said very much after that.

  Darkness had fallen and Stephen could see the lights of Crete winking on, one by one. He was near to exhaustion now, still clinging to the flimsy piece of wreckage, kicking his legs, which were almost numb. He didn’t know how long he had been in the water, but his face burned from exposure to the sun and his lips were cracked and dry. He yearned for a drink, but knew that he could not take so much as a sip of the water that lapped and splashed enticingly all around him. He had read accounts of sailors, cast adrift in boats, who had succumbed to the temptation and who had died horribly as a result. Drinking seawater first drove you mad and then gave you a hideous, painful death. But the sound of the water was so tantalizing . . .

  He tried to put the thought out of his mind. Crete was much closer now. The dark shape of the island reared up ahead of him, but the absence of the lights of any fishing boats told him he was not near the busy port of Heraklion. He thought he could just make out the shapes of white-painted houses on the shoreline and hear the sound of water breaking against a beach, but he had lost so much time fighting a powerful current that seemed to be intent on sweeping him on past the island that his strength was almost gone.

  He began to hallucinate. It seemed to him that his father was in the water beside him; his father as he had been when Stephen was a small boy, strong and wiry and full of energy. He was helping to propel the floating wing forward and he was talking to Stephen in his soft, cultured voice, explaining things to him as he always had, telling him how everything worked. Some of Stephen’s earliest childhood recollections were of his father doing exactly that, staging little experiments in the room where he worked on his inventions, helping his son understand more about the world around him. S
tephen closed his eyes, and now he was back in that room, watching his father pour a jug of water into a glass bowl.

  ‘You see, Stephen,’ his father was saying, ‘water is just like you and me. It has a skin. And to prove it, I shall float this needle on the surface.’ He saw his father’s hands placing the needle carefully on a small pool of detergent that he had poured into the bowl and, sure enough, there was the impossible, the thin sliver of metal lying on the surface like a tiny boat.

  And then he remembered that his father was dead, his brilliant inventive mind stilled for ever by an evil despot who had made the old man undertake an impossible task. Anger welled up within Stephen. He kicked his numb legs with renewed intent, using up his last reserves of energy. The sound of the breaking waves grew louder, filling his head with a roaring noise, and it was the last thing he heard before exhaustion took him and he fell into unconsciousness . . .

  Alec was lying on the couch, trying to snatch a little sleep, when the door to the room opened. He sat up and looked around, blinking. Lee stood in the doorway, backed up by the two armed guards. He regarded his captives with his usual impassive stare. ‘It is time,’ he said.

  Ethan nodded. ‘Well, let’s see what delights Mr Wolfe has lined up for me.’ He spoke calmly, as though he was being called to nothing more challenging than a dinner party.

  ‘You all must come,’ said Lee. ‘Mr Wolfe wants you to watch.’

  ‘How charming,’ said Coates. He slapped Ethan on the back. ‘Nice of him to think of our entertainment, eh?’

  ‘I wonder he hasn’t sold tickets,’ said Ethan, and he eyed Lee with interest. ‘What do I have to do?’ he asked. ‘You can tell me now, surely?’

  ‘Mr Wolfe will explain,’ said Lee.

  Alec got himself up off the couch and stretched himself. ‘Couldn’t this wait till tomorrow?’ he asked. ‘We’re all a bit tired.’

  ‘Yeah,’ agreed Ethan. ‘Maybe come back tomorrow morning, when I’m more in the mood.’

  Once again, Alec saw Lee’s expression momentarily lapse into something that looked suspiciously like respect.

  ‘You are brave,’ said Lee. ‘Others have not been so brave.’

  ‘I meant to ask you about that,’ said Alec, moving closer. ‘How many others have there been?’

  Lee looked confused. ‘Many,’ he said. ‘I . . . should not talk about this.’

  ‘Why not?’ asked Coates. ‘Because Mr Wolfe wouldn’t like it?’

  Lee frowned. ‘You come now,’ he insisted. ‘Mr Wolfe not like to be kept waiting.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Coates. ‘You might earn yourself another beating.’

  Lee didn’t say anything to that.

  ‘See, we’re trying to figure this out,’ said Ethan. ‘This hold that he has over you, I don’t believe for one moment that you like the things he makes you do.’

  ‘Mr Wolfe my master,’ said Lee. ‘He own me.’

  ‘That’s nonsense,’ said Alec. ‘This is the twentieth century. One man can’t own the life of another. Isn’t it time you started thinking about what you want?’

  Lee seemed to be about to lose his temper. He slipped a hand beneath his tunic, a familiar threat. ‘You come now!’ he barked. ‘Or I tighten collar!’

  Ethan held up his hands in surrender. ‘OK, OK, you’re the boss,’ he said. He thought for a moment. ‘Well, no, Mr Wolfe is the boss, you’re just the . . . what’s the word? Oh yeah. The slave. A person who has no rights whatsoever.’

  Lee stepped back from the door and ushered the captives through the doorway. One of the armed men led the way, the other tagged onto the end of the line. Alec was convinced they were beginning to get somewhere with Lee, so he continued to talk as they walked along the corridor.

  ‘Is there anything you wouldn’t do on Mr Wolfe’s orders?’ he asked. ‘Supposing he told you to . . . murder a baby? Or perhaps your own parents?’

  Lee shook his head. ‘This could not happen,’ he said. ‘I not remember my parents.’

  ‘I’m only asking the question.’

  ‘Just keep walking.’

  ‘Alec, you’re wasting your time,’ said Ethan. ‘You think you’re talking to somebody who has a mind of his own, but Lee here, he’s been following those crazy orders for so long, he’s forgotten how to think for himself. Maybe he’s gone a little nuts too. It would be understandable. You spend enough time with somebody like Wolfe and you’re gonna wind up as crazy as a bed bug.’

  ‘I not crazy,’ said Lee.

  ‘Perhaps, but you’re not exactly the most rational human being I’ve ever met,’ said Coates. ‘When you started work for Mr Wolfe, did he by any chance give you a job description? “Must be prepared to torture and murder innocent people. Animal-lover preferred”?’

  Lee sneered. ‘I was a boy,’ he protested. ‘This life is all I ever know. And . . . Mr Wolfe is great man.’

  ‘Oh yeah, he’s a legend in his own mind,’ said Ethan. ‘You don’t buy all that reincarnation garbage, do you?’

  Lee looked troubled, but he simply said, ‘No more talk. Walk on.’

  Alec glanced at Lee’s left hand and noticed that he was wearing a dressing on it. ‘You found some ointment, then?’ he asked.

  Lee looked down at his hand as though he had forgotten about it. Then, despite himself, he gave a fleeting smile. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Hand much better now.’

  ‘I’m glad,’ said Alec. ‘That must have hurt.’

  Lee looked at him sharply. ‘What you say before . . . that you will take beating for me. You mean this?’

  ‘I suppose so.’ Alec looked at him. ‘That’s another thing. No man should be allowed to beat another man to make him do his bidding. Surely you know that this is wrong?’

  Lee frowned. ‘I Mr Wolfe’s property,’ he said again, but this time, he didn’t sound quite so convinced.

  They came to some exit doors and the first guard led them out into the warm night air. A full moon shimmered in the cloudless sky. They followed Lee around the side of the palace and down into the natural basin where the arena was situated.

  ‘Looks like whatever my task is, it takes place in the arena,’ observed Ethan. ‘I hope to God it doesn’t involve bulls. I had enough of them last time.’

  ‘No bulls,’ said Lee, and Ethan glanced at him in surprise. It was probably the first time the manservant had volunteered a piece of information without being asked.

  ‘Well, that’s something,’ said Ethan. ‘So what is it? Archery? Knife-throwing? Marbles?’

  But now they were passing in through the open gates of the arena, which they saw was lit at intervals by a series of huge braziers, giving the enclosed space a hellish look. Wolfe was waiting in the centre of the arena, but had abandoned his usual long robes for an ancient Greek soldier’s uniform of a metal breastplate over a short tunic, and a plumed helmet. He had metal wristbands, and from his belt hung a sword in a jewelled scabbard. He smiled treacherously as his ‘guests’ approached.

  ‘Gentlemen, welcome to the next challenge,’ he said. ‘Particularly you, Mr Wade . . . or perhaps I should call you Hector?’

  Ethan glanced at Alec. Help me out, kid,’ he said. ‘Who in the name of reason is Hector?’

  Alec frowned. ‘I assume he’s referring to the leader of the armies of Troy,’ he said.

  Wolfe nodded. ‘You assume correctly,’ he said.

  ‘You’re slipping,’ Alec told him. ‘First you had the story of Damocles, almost certainly a Roman invention. Now you’re looking to Troy for inspiration. What’s the matter – can’t you find enough Cretan myths to work with?’

  ‘I’m happy to look at any of the myths of the ancient world to inspire my challenges,’ Wolfe sneered. ‘And this one seemed so appropriate for somebody like Mr Wade. Hector, of course, is best known for his epic battle with Achilles – a fight to the death that he tragically lost.’

  Ethan studied Wolfe for a moment. ‘Please tell me you’re gonna play Achilles,’ he said. ‘Because that
’s one challenge I wouldn’t mind taking on. In fact, it would give me the greatest pleasure to chop your ugly head off.’

  Wolfe smiled a slippery smile. ‘Mr Wade, I have many skills, but fighting with sword and shield isn’t one of them. So sadly, I will have to give that honour to somebody else.’

  ‘Why am I not surprised?’ muttered Coates. ‘Who would have guessed you’d turn out to be a coward as well as a madman?’

  Wolfe seemed unperturbed by the comment. ‘Mr Wade strikes me as a man of action,’ he said. ‘So obviously, I needed to find a worthy opponent for him. I think I have managed to do that.’ He pointed to a wooden table on the other side of the arena. ‘You’ll find a selection of swords and shields over there . . . Meanwhile, your friends will accompany me to the royal box to watch the proceedings in comfort.’

  ‘Do we get any choice in the matter?’ asked Alec.

  ‘None whatsoever. But you certainly don’t want to stay down here. Things are going to get decidedly . . . messy.’

  Wolfe gestured to his guards, who led Alec and Coates towards the open doorway. Wolfe followed them and they climbed some steps at the back of the arena and into the enclosure from where Wolfe had observed the bull-leaping. Wolfe settled himself onto the comfortable seat beside Ariadne, who once again had been brought out to watch something she clearly didn’t want to see. Alec and Coates went to the barrier and leaned over to look down at Ethan.

  ‘Give them hell,’ shouted Alec.

  Ethan winked up at him. ‘You got it, kid,’ he said. He walked across to the table and picked up a heavy sword. He swung it experimentally, testing the weight of it.

  Just then, there was a rumbling sound from the far end of the arena and Alec turned his head to see that the barred gate was rising. From out of the darkness beyond the gates, something moved into the arena. Ethan turned to look too.