‘And you say you just . . . flew away from the island? On mechanical wings?’
‘I know it sounds crazy, but you have to believe me! My father was a brilliant inventor; he’s been working on man-powered flight for years. Wolfe offered us a considerable sum of money if we could fly our machine for half a mile. Look, I don’t care if you believe me or not, just go to the island and see for yourself. But go there armed, because Wolfe wouldn’t hesitate to kill you.’
Lieutenant Sideras seemed to be considering his position. ‘I know of this Tobias Wolfe,’ he said. ‘I understand he’s very rich, very powerful. In the past it has always been made clear that he does not encourage visitors to his island.’ He smiled and shook his head. ‘Little wonder, from what you’ve told me.’
Stephen gazed at him with fresh hope. ‘You believe my story?’ he asked.
Lieutenant Sideras shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘It does sound fantastic,’ he said. ‘But . . . it would explain a lot. I confess it never occurred to me that Wolfe might have something to do with this. He has some pretty powerful friends, one of them the commissioner of police in Athens.’ He studied Stephen for a moment. ‘You’d better be telling me the truth, my friend, otherwise this could go very badly for me.’
Stephen leaned across the desk. ‘I swear to you every word of it is true,’ he said. ‘I swear on the head of my poor father, who that madman has murdered in cold blood.’
Lieutenant Sideras nodded. He seemed satisfied by Stephen’s response. He got up from his desk, went to the door and stepped outside for a moment. Stephen heard him shouting urgent instructions in Greek to the man outside. Then there was the sound of heavy boots clumping on wooden floorboards. The lieutenant came back into the office.
‘I have ordered the police launch to be made ready,’ he said. ‘I think it’s time I paid this Mr Wolfe a little visit.’ He picked up the metal collar from the table. ‘I’d like to ask him a few questions about this device. And just to be sure of things I’ll take another man along with me.’
‘One man might not be enough,’ said Stephen.
‘He’s all I have available right now,’ the lieutenant said. ‘Most of my men are attending to some urgent business in Chania. I could call for reinforcements, of course, but that would take time.’
Stephen got up from his seat. ‘No,’ he said, ‘we can’t afford to wait. But I’d like to go with you.’
Lieutenant Sideras looked doubtful. ‘If Wolfe is as crazy as you say he is, it could be dangerous.’
‘Please, you must let me accompany you. That man is responsible for the death of my father. And besides, I know my way around the island, I’d be useful.’
Lieutenant Sideras considered for a moment. ‘Very well,’ he said. He put down the collar and pulled open a drawer of his desk. He took out a heavy pistol in a leather holster, which he began to strap around his hips. ‘But if we do run into any trouble, make sure you keep your head down. The last thing I need right now is another dead Englishman.’
Alec was still following the wall to his left. He found the shattered remains of a hurricane lamp lying on the ground ahead of him and stooped to examine it briefly. Scorch marks on the wall indicated that the lamp had flared when it was dropped. He stood up and continued on his way, turning left at the next junction. The bobbing pool of light from his lamp only lit the way a short distance ahead and he almost came to grief because of it. One moment he was walking forward as normal; the next, the ground fell suddenly away into a sheer-sided chasm and he very nearly stepped into the void. He pulled back in alarm, then stepped carefully to the edge of it and peered down into darkness. He lifted the lamp above his head, but the light wasn’t enough to penetrate very far and he had no idea how deep it was.
After a little deliberation, he crouched down, set the hurricane lamp on the floor and tore a strip of cloth from the hem of his tunic. Then, lifting the lamp glass, he held the cloth carefully against the wick to set it aflame. He dropped the strip of burning cloth into the chasm. It went whirling down, illuminating the blackness below, and Alec felt a jolt of pure horror go through him as he saw in that brief glare that the bottom of the pit was littered with the remains of bodies, perhaps a dozen or more. He saw everything in the seconds before the flame burned itself out – bare bones, dried, wizened limbs, grinning skulls – and lying face down at the top of the heap, the figure of a young man dressed in a white shirt and khaki trousers.
Travis, thought Alec. He didn’t know what made him feel so certain about this, but it seemed to fit. He remembered what Wolfe had said about Travis. He went into the labyrinth but never came out. It was all too easy to figure out what must have happened. The broken lamp! Travis must have been running in a blind panic and dropped his only source of light. He’d have come round that corner into total darkness . . .
Alec suppressed a shudder. Then, as if to make things worse, a great bellowing roar came from out of the darkness behind him, sounding uncomfortably close. Alec knew he couldn’t waste any more time. Common sense told him that he ought to try and find another route, but a stubborn streak asserted itself, reminding him how his father’s theory had proved itself at Hampton Court all those years ago. He judged the distance to the far side of the pit – six feet, perhaps slightly more. He was confident he could jump across, but there was the hurricane lamp to consider. If he dropped that, he’d be done for. He’d have to cling onto it for dear life.
He flung the ball of twine across the gap and saw it come to a halt a few feet further on. Then, taking a secure grip on the handle of the lamp, he began to back away from the edge, judging the kind of run-up he’d need to make it safely across. When he had gone far enough, he paused and took a couple of deep breaths. He didn’t want to think too much about what lay at the bottom of the pit. He stood for quite a while and then realized he was just putting off the inevitable. So he ran lightly forwards to the very edge of the pit and launched himself into the air.
Everything seemed to go in slow motion. He hung above the chasm for what seemed an age, and for a terrible moment he thought that he had misjudged the leap; but then his toes slammed onto solid ground and he tried to keep running, but his foot caught the trailing length of twine and he tripped and fell forward. He slammed onto the hard earth floor, but somehow managed to hold the lamp clear of the ground. It swung from its handle and the light faltered for a moment, but then came back again.
He remembered to breathe. He got back to his feet and found the ball of twine. His heart was thudding like a steam hammer in his chest, but he made himself walk forwards again, following the wall to his left, trying not to think about the angry bellows that were coming out of the darkness.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Beast
STEPHEN FOLLOWED LIEUTENANT Sideras along the stone jetty. It was another fine day and the place bustled with fishermen and tourists. The two men pushed their way through the throng and found an armed, uniformed gendarme standing beside a fishing boat. He saluted Lieutenant Sideras, who jumped aboard with Stephen. The lieutenant gestured impatiently to the man at the helm and the little boat’s engine rumbled into life. The gendarme unhitched the mooring rope and jumped aboard. The boat pulled steadily away from the jetty, heading for the open sea.
Lieutenant Sideras went over to talk to the captain, and the two of them spent a little time gazing at a map. Then, seemingly satisfied that they were heading for the right place, the lieutenant came back to talk with Stephen.
‘Dimitri knows of the island,’ he explained, ‘He made a delivery there once, some years ago. He said something about guard dogs?’
‘Oh yes, the Maenads – the guardians of the island. The people there use special whistles to control them.’
Lieutenant Sideras patted the pistol on his hip. ‘There are other ways to quieten a dog,’ he said, and for the first time, Stephen realized that under the man’s calm exterior there lurked a fierce and unflinching warrior.
Stephen had read accounts of the
occupation of Thessaloniki during the Balkan War in 1912. After the Turkish army had surrendered, units of the Cretan gendarmerie had been ordered to police the city, which had been populated by warring factions of Turks, Jews, Greeks and Bulgarians. An uprising by a huge army of Bulgarians had plunged the city into anarchy. Heavily outnumbered, the Cretans had been involved in savage hand-to-hand fighting, at which they excelled, and they had quickly and brutally brought the uprising to an end. He wondered if Lieutenant Sideras had been involved in that action, but before he could ask the question, the lieutenant weighed in with one of his own.
‘There’s something I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘If what you say about Wolfe is true, I ask myself, why is he doing these things? What does he stand to gain?’
‘Nothing,’ said Stephen. ‘He’s quite mad. You know, he told us that he believes he’s a reincarnation of King Minos and that he is therefore entitled to . . . how did he put it? To demand tribute from ordinary people like you and me.’
Lieutenant Sideras seemed amused by this. ‘The world is full of madmen,’ he said, ‘but most of them are prepared to settle for less.’ He lifted his gaze to the horizon as a distant roar came from across the water. Stephen saw that a great plume of smoke and volcanic ash was billowing up into the sky from the direction of Santorini.
‘Who would live in that place?’ asked Lieutenant Sideras, shaking his head. ‘Like living on a time bomb.’
‘Yes, but it’s not going to go off anytime soon, is it?’ asked Stephen nervously.
The lieutenant didn’t answer. He was looking at the distant pall of smoke as if trying to gauge just how serious it was.
‘It’s been over fifty years since the last big one,’ he said at last. ‘I was just a child then, but I remember it happening. The sky turned black and even on Crete we could feel the earth shaking beneath us. Trouble is, Wolfe’s island is close to Santorini. Very close. Hopefully, it won’t—’ He broke off as there was a sudden commotion in the water around the boat.
Stephen turned to look over the side. To his amazement, he saw that a huge shoal of tiny fish was frantically skimming the surface of the water, many of them actually leaping into the air in their haste to escape from whatever it was they were fleeing from. Stephen saw that they were all heading in the direction of Crete.
‘What do you suppose spooked them?’ he asked.
If the lieutenant knew the answer, he wasn’t saying; for now his attention was focused on a tiny bluish blur of land on the horizon as the island of Candia came gradually into view.
* * *
Alec came round a final corner and knew instantly that he had found the heart of the maze. The corridor he was following opened out into a large round area, from which many more passageways led away in all directions. Alec knew that he had no need to worry about any of them, because his route back was already marked by the length of twine he had unwound as he walked.
He glanced quickly around and saw the small stone altar standing in the very centre of the circular space – and on the altar, a small bronze figurine of a warrior holding a sword and shield. Alec went to examine it in the glow of the lamp, noting the round switch that protruded from the warrior’s chest. He picked it up and slipped it into his pocket – then froze as a sound came to his ears; a low, rumbling growl that was close – far too close for comfort. He turned and lifted the lantern.
Then he saw it. A hideous figure was shambling out of the darkness of one of the corridors on the far side of the circle. The sight of the creature filled him with such terror that he was momentarily rooted to the spot.
The minotaur – everything he had ever imagined about this mythological beast was there before his eyes in the flesh. The squat muscular body rippling with power, the huge misshapen head, the long curving horns, it was all there, all horribly real.
Alec fought down the urge to run, wanting to be sure of what he was looking at – and as the figure came closer to the light of the lantern, he could see it in more detail.
The face – if it could be called that – was a monstrosity of mutated flesh that put Alec in mind of photographs he had seen of John Joseph Merrick, the so-called ‘elephant man’, whose extreme deformities of face and body had caused such a stir in London forty years before. And in that face Alec saw two eyes that flickered and glowed with madness. Then he noticed that the great curved horns sat oddly on the beast’s head. In the dim light he could see that they seemed to be fixed to its head in some manner. This was no demon of legend, Alec realized with a jolt. This was some poor deformed soul whom nature had created, and whom one madman had somehow acquired and treated with such violence that it had become what its master had always wanted it to be – a brutal killer, a murderous beast based on a creature from legend, who would tear apart and devour any person that stood in his way.
But Alec didn’t have time to ponder on the nature and origins of the beast before him, as it now began to move purposely forward. Sensing that to turn and run would be a mistake, Alec took the length of twine in his left hand and slowly started to back off, using it to help him retrace his steps. The minotaur kept right on coming, its head lowered, a deep growl emerging from its open mouth. Alec saw that the creature’s huge hands were held out in front of it, opening and closing as though anticipating the feel of Alec’s young bones snapping beneath their power.
Alec kept moving, telling himself that he must not panic. But then, quite suddenly, the minotaur was gone, slipping away into another corridor. For a moment, Alec felt a sense of relief . . . but it was short-lived. He realized that the creature had almost certainly lived down here for years. If that was the case, it would know every inch of this maze, would be able to find its way through it in the pitch-dark. Alec turned to look over his shoulder, raising the lamp high above his head, but he could see no more than a few feet into the blackness behind him.
He paused for a moment, trying to think logically. What should he do? Continue along the route he had already established? Or go forwards and try and search out another way through the maze? Logic told him he should stick to the first option – but a slowly mounting fear told him that he was likely to be discovered there. Supposing the minotaur had worked its way around Alec and was coming along from another direction to cut him off? He stood there in a fog of indecision and then told himself, no, he had to stick to his original plan if he was to have any hope of finding his way out of here. In that same moment, something came lunging out of the darkness behind him and wrapped its arms around his chest in a grip that threatened to crush the life out of him.
For an instant, he was lost in a state of total panic. The muscular arms that enfolded him were exerting unbelievable power and his feet had been lifted clear of the ground, giving him no purchase to fight off the attack. His left arm was pinioned uselessly at his side, his right still held the lantern, his only source of light, and it occurred to him then that he was doomed, that he had no chance of surviving this.
But just as quickly, a stubborn streak surfaced and he told himself he was not going to go down without a fight; so he bent his head down and buried his teeth in the nearest thing he could find: a big, dirty thumb. He bit down with all the strength he could find, aware of his teeth slicing deep into flesh and grinding against bone, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth.
There was a bellow beside his left ear and suddenly the arms released him and he was being thrown towards the nearest wall. He crashed into it and slid to the floor, gasping for breath. The lantern flew from his hands and rolled against the wall, coming to rest leaning upright, so thankfully there was still some light. Alec scrambled into a sitting position. The creature was standing a short distance from him, bellowing in pain and cradling a hand from which blood trickled in a ribbon of scarlet. It looked up and took a step towards Alec, its face contorted with rage.
‘Wait!’ shouted Alec, and the creature stopped and stared at him in surprise. ‘There’s no need for this,’ continued Alec, not even knowing if
the creature understood any language, never mind English. ‘I . . . I don’t know how you’ve been brought to this, but I want you to know, I’m your friend and I have no wish to hurt you.’
The creature grunted and took another threatening step forward.
‘Wait,’ pleaded Alec again, holding up his hands. ‘It doesn’t have to be this way! There’s no reason why we should fight. I’m your friend.’ He patted his chest. ‘Friend,’ he repeated. ‘I only want to help y—’
He broke off in alarm as the minotaur leaped forward, grabbed him by his shoulders and flung him further along the corridor as though he had no more weight than a straw doll. He flew backwards through the air and came down heavily with a yell of pain, then slid several feet, grazing his side. He looked up to see the minotaur advancing on him, and it was clear from the look of brutal intent in its eyes that there was no use in trying to talk to it any more. Any humanity that had once existed in it was now gone. It was no more than a machine intent on destruction.
Alec clambered awkwardly back to his feet and steeled himself. He dropped into a crouch and as the creature lunged for him, he ducked quickly under his assailant’s right arm and ran past, snatching up the hurricane lamp as he went. He saw the length of twine stretched out on the ground below him and followed it, running as fast as he dared. Behind him an echoing roar told him that the minotaur was coming in pursuit.
Just in time, Alec remembered the sheer drop ahead of him. He would have liked time to gauge his leap more carefully, but there was none. As he neared the edge, he leaped into the air, pedalling his legs to add to his momentum. Almost instantly, he realized that he had jumped a couple of paces too soon. His feet came down on the very edge of the far side and a large sliver of rock broke away under the impact. He began to fall and had to let go of the lamp and throw out his hands in a desperate attempt to halt his slide. His fingers slapped against the edge of the rock and held fast. Below him, the hurricane lamp hit the sprawl of bodies and erupted into flame, briefly illuminating the ghastly scene at the bottom of the pit.
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