by Tom Wilde
Afterwards, when the primal, driving need had passed and we had separated, a feeling of loneliness struck me before I could catch my breath and slow the beating of my heart. The pains of my injuries returned, making me wonder where they’d disappeared to during our lovemaking. My melancholy was evoked by the thought that what I’d just shared with her took us out beyond this place and time. Only the spell couldn’t last, and we were back, trapped inside a gilded prison.
As my body slowed, my mind began to function, and I felt a bitterness twist my lips at the thought that Caitlin certainly went above and beyond the call of duty to convince any unseen observers of our marital relationship. I had gotten lost in the lie myself, and now felt the shame of a slave forced to perform for the debased pleasure of a soulless master.
Caitlin and I had shifted our bodies; I was on my back and she was entwined at my side. She reached for the single sheet to cover us, then laid her hand on my chest under the sheet and tapped gently three times. Then she traced the letters of the word “HI.”
I almost laughed with surprise and admiration. Covered by the sheet, Caitlin was communicating with me in the only way that would be completely undetected. No doubt about it, I thought, Caitlin had brains and beauty. My thoughts came back into sharp focus as I reached my left hand down to her side and traced the letters to spell out HI.
Caitlin traced a question mark, and I wrote in response: V WANTS ME TO JOIN HIM.
Caitlin next traced WMDS? on my chest. Ah, the weapons of mass destruction, the biological warfare material that Caitlin and her boss spoke of back in New York. I sketched the circle and slash for NO on her thigh.
GO ALONG, Caitlin wrote, and then added: NEED MORE INFO.
I remembered the words Rhea had whispered to me while running a knife along my neck and I wrote: RHEA SAID SHE IS ON OUR SIDE.
Caitlin sketched a fast reply of: DON’T TRUST HER, adding a sharp jab of her fingernail for emphasis. I just patted her side in silent acquiescence.
All was still for a while, and I lay there with Caitlin and just listened to her softly breathing as the moonlight cut the small room into shapes of silver and sable. Then Caitlin wrote the letters that asked: CAN YOU DO THIS?
I just wrote in reply: YES. Then added a single number and a letter—a shorthand text message telling her that I would do it “4 U.”
Caitlin gave me a gentle hug, and then rolled over to her other side. I followed suit and snuggled in close beside her, cradling her back and breathing in the scent of her hair. I’d been with other women throughout my life, but with one exception all of my relationships were fleeting, ephemeral things. I could never be honest about my life and my work to begin with, and the long separations while I was sent off across the world invariably caused those relationships to fade and fail. And in truth, all the women I had known seemed to be pampered, protected creatures, cloistered within their comfortable, artificial shell of civilization. I had journeyed for so long and done so much that I no longer felt like I belonged in their protected and insulated world.
Then there was Caitlin. Where all the other women I had known were like expensive yet fragile crystal, Caitlin was as strong and resilient as a cut diamond. She was the only woman I’d ever known who knew at least part of the truth about my life, and it made me wonder if there perhaps could be a future with her.
But given our current situation, I wasn’t sure there was going to be a future. We were cut off from the rest of the world on Vanya’s private island, and subject to his whim. And Vanya himself was of questionable sanity. But there was no doubting the man had charisma. He exuded an attraction that would draw lesser-willed people into his orbit like a Jovian planet capturing meteors. Rhea, on the other hand, was as cold and deadly as they come, and I’ve had the extreme displeasure of meeting some dangerous people in my line of work. Then there was Ombra and his men. Who they were and how they figured into all of this was a deep and vexing mystery, and I recalled Vanya’s words from earlier that night when he said they were like a plague. It made me wonder if all the sins they committed had been done in the name of a god. And there’s nothing more implacable than a religious fanatic on a mission.
Now Caitlin and I were stuck in the game with all of them: Vanya, Rhea, and Ombra. But if there was even the slightest chance of finding the tomb of Alexander the Great, then it would be the find of this or any other century. One that would put Howard’s discovery of Tutankhamen to shame.
But that particular treasure had been cursed as well.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I awoke to streams of sunlight pouring through the sliding glass doors of the room. Caitlin was sitting next to the small table, limned in an aura of light that turned her hair into molten gold. She was wrapped in the robe I had been wearing the night before. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” she greeted. “I wasn’t sure you’d be waking up today.”
I held up a hand to ward off the light. “Good morning yourself,” I replied. “What time is it?”
“Daytime,” she said, holding up a bare wrist to indicate the lack of a timepiece. I was lacking things too, namely clothes. The dress Caitlin had been wearing was draped across the other chair, and all I had between me and the world was the sheet I was under. “Why don’t you take a shower,” she suggested. “You’ll feel better.” Caitlin then rose and opened the sliding glass door to the balcony, allowing a warm breeze into the room. She stepped outside and turned her attention to the sea. It was a seemingly casual maneuver that granted me a moment of privacy to make it to the bathroom, and it didn’t escape me how odd it was that two people could share the ultimate intimacy and yet retain the innate shyness of strangers.
I didn’t get up all at once. I did a quick inventory of my biological machine. The right side of my chest still wanted to go on strike, but my right leg was better, with the exception of a lingering stiffness. I also had a small collection of seldom-used muscles that were reminding me that I don’t get nearly enough exercise in the act of human interaction. My eyes were drawn to Caitlin, leaning against the balcony with the breeze caressing her hair, and I wanted nothing more than to come up behind her and cradle her in my arms. Until my brain gave my emotions a solid kick and told them to get back down under, where they belonged. I quit wasting time and got up.
The bathroom was a compact unit with a single shower stall, toilet, and sink, as Spartan and functional as the rest of the room. The man in the mirror sported a pair of diffused circular rainbow bruises on his side, but other than that he appeared functional as well. Not decorative, but functional. There was a selection of small guest supplies, but nothing like a shaving razor. I ran my hand over my face and felt grudging admiration for the close shave Rhea gave me the night before, the memory of which left me with a tinge of fear. I tried to drown out that memory with a hot shower.
It felt good to be within the warm cocoon of the running water, and I reluctantly emerged after too short a time, but once again I was captivated by the aroma of coffee nearby. I wrapped one of the heavy towels around my waist and came back to the bedroom to find Caitlin, dressed in a white short-sleeved shirt and matching shorts, sitting near the table, now with a wheeled tray of food and drinks parked beside it. What caught my eye was the sight of my clothes and belongings arranged on the bed. “That woman came by,” Caitlin explained. The cold emphasis on the word “woman” told me she was referring to Rhea. “And she brought room and laundry service with her. I was waiting for you.”
I was torn between wanting to inventory my belongings or dive into the food, but I figured my clothes weren’t going anywhere without me, so I sat down with Caitlin as she poured the coffee. Judging from the eclectic selection of edible delicacies, it appeared that our host was going out of his way to pamper us, but the lack of tableware on the service cart reminded me of our status as prisoners. As I reached over to help myself, Caitlin said, “The baklava’s all mine. I won’t fight you over the rest of it.”
My hand changed direction and I selected a
slice of salmon arranged on a wedge of bread. Caitlin was acting subdued yet tense. “Are you all right, love?” I asked.
She took a sip of coffee, then said, “As long as you tell me we’re going to get out of all this, I am.” She looked directly into my eyes. “I’m still trying to get over everything you told me last night. Right now, it all seems like some kind of bad dream.”
I kept in mind that we were doubtless still under surveillance. “We’ll be fine,” I said convincingly. “Like I said, the people here want my help. Also, I’m quitting the government spy business. The pay was lousy anyway.”
“I didn’t marry you for your money.”
“Good thing, considering what that skinflint Nick Riley pays me at Argo.” There, I thought, now Vanya might get the reassuring message that my services were definitely for sale.
We ate and drank in silence for a while. Until the sound of automatic-weapons fire intruded into the room.
Caitlin’s golden brown eyes narrowed, then she opened them wide as she said with apparent alarm, “What was that?”
I got up and went out to the balcony, searching for the source of the gunfire, but from my sixth-floor vantage point, all I could see was a vast expanse of water and the ship I’d spotted the night before, still at anchor. The sunlight dancing off the waves made it hard to make out at a distance, but I could now see the ship was a modern motor yacht, and a big one at that. The rapid popping drumbeat of the guns ceased for a bit, then commenced again. The noise appeared to be coming from somewhere on the other side of the building Caitlin and I were in. “Sounds like a small army on maneuvers,” I said.
I took a look around the balcony. The outside of the building was constructed of featureless concrete, and I could see matching balcony areas below and on both sides. There was a straight drop down to the sandy beach, which was flanked by rough black rocks where the waves ebbed and flowed. The building looked as solid as a fortress. So much for a potential escape out the window, I thought. Not that heading in the direction that gunfire was coming from was an attractive proposition. There were three more sets of automatic-weapon barrages, and then the guns went silent. “What do you think that was?” Caitlin asked.
She probably knew better than I did, but she was playing her part to perfection. I tried to sound reassuring as I said, “Probably just someone practicing their target shooting. And if they need guns like that, they’re probably bad shots.”
Caitlin gave me a small smile. I missed seeing her ironic raised-eyebrow look, but that wouldn’t have been in character, I suppose. I cinched my towel tighter and turned my attention toward the clothes and other items stacked neatly on the bed. I’d really missed wearing pants. I nearly did a double take as I spotted among my belongings the short stack of gold coins I’d rescued. I picked them up, feeling their weight as I held one up to the light. The face of the coin was impressed with a profile of a man in late Restoration Period wig with the name “Manoel De Vilhena” surrounding the head. The reverse of the coin had the heraldry of Malta along with a date of 1724. All six golden coins were of the same vintage.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw that Caitlin remained at the balcony, her attention out to the sea. I dropped my towel and quickly slipped into my clothes, which had obviously been thoroughly cleaned, removing all traces of our recent expeditions through the Catacombs of Paris. I wouldn’t be wearing my jacket in this climate, which was just as well, as it sported a ragged bullet hole.
I inventoried my other belongings. I had my watch, wallet, passport, and money, including the bills I had tucked away inside my formerly secret pockets. My button-sized compass and flashlight were present, along with my waterproof metal tube of matches and my pocket tool. They even kept the safety pins. Best of all, my belt and pen had been returned. It felt good to be armed again. As I finished dressing, Caitlin returned inside. “Did you get all of your things back?” I asked.
“I didn’t see my phone,” she replied casually. I tried to summon a mental inventory of all of the items I had removed from Caitlin’s purse and carried in my pockets, and wondered which ones were the “toys” Vanya had referred to. Whatever Caitlin’s devices were, they were gone now. Caitlin retrieved the bathrobe I’d worn the night before and went into the pockets, coming out with my lighter and cigarettes. She took a moment to examine the etched dragon motif on the lighter before she handed it over. “Gift from an old flame?” she asked.
“More like an old enemy,” I replied as I stashed the lighter and cigarette box away in my pockets.
“You’ll have to tell me that story someday. Come to think of it, you’re going to have to tell me a lot of things I should have known before we got married,” she said seriously. “Jonathan, where’s your wedding ring?” she asked suddenly.
My mind flashed back to when Caitlin’s fellow agent Sam Smith and I met in Paris and he asked for the ring back, explaining it had a homing beacon built inside. “Uh, I’m sorry, honey,” I offered. “I must have lost it somewhere in Paris.”
Caitlin looked hurt, but didn’t reply. If she was counting on the ring’s electronic properties to help her people to locate us, then we were well and truly lost. Which underscored another reason I hate to trust my life to any modern, infernal devices—the damn things can fail you. I held out my handful of gold coins to her. “Here,” I said.
Caitlin approached, curiosity playing on her lovely face. “What’s this?”
“Belated wedding present. Although you’re worth far more to me than mere gold.”
She gave me a sly, mock-disbelieving look as she accepted the treasure from me. Caitlin held up a coin and said, “So this is what you risked your life for back in Paris?”
“When you put it that way, you make me sound idiotic.”
She just gave me a sideways glance more expressive than any words. “What are they?” she asked, pointedly returning to the subject.
“Maltese treasure. Must be part of the loot that Napoleon collected as he rampaged throughout the world.”
“Are they worth anything? Like the price of your life?”
“Depends on who you talk to. But if you don’t want them—”
Caitlin swiftly turned and picked up her small black handbag from the bed, dropping all the coins inside and snapping the purse shut. “Don’t think this gets you off the hook for anything that’s happened, like losing your wedding ring,” she said with finality.
I was saved from making a rejoinder by a knock at our door. Without waiting for an invitation, Rhea entered the room. “Good morning,” she greeted us pleasantly. She was no longer attired as a Grecian goddess, and instead was dressed in a tight pair of black shorts and a matching short top that displayed her smooth musculature to good effect. Her glossy black hair was wrapped tightly to her head. She also wore a pair of black athletic shoes and came in looking like she was ready to run a marathon. “Vanya would like to see you now, Mr. Blake.”
Caitlin tossed her purse on the bed. “Let’s not keep our host waiting, shall we?”
Rhea kept her pleasant demeanor as she said, “You were not invited, Mrs. Blake.”
“I’ll forgive the oversight,” Caitlin replied. “But I go where my husband goes.”
Rhea’s smile stayed fixed, albeit a little strained. Caitlin remained impassive and immovable, and I had just enough brains to stay the hell out of the staring contest. Finally, Rhea gave a small nod of acquiescence and ushered us toward the door. I’m certain I only imagined the feline hiss Rhea made as we passed by her.
As Rhea shut the door and led us to the elevator, I said, “I heard gunfire this morning.”
“Really?” Rhea replied casually. “You must have heard our security people practicing.”
“Your security people have automatic weapons?”
“Certainly,” Rhea said. “Rest assured, Mr. Blake, you will be very well protected as long as you are a guest here.”
Rhea’s statement did nothing to bolster my own sense of security, but Caitlin h
elped immensely by the simple act of taking my hand as we walked. The three of us remained silent as we took the elevator to the ground-floor lobby and then walked toward the central courtyard. The sun hadn’t crested the eastern building yet and the garden area was shaded, but the air felt warm and heavy, promising real heat for the coming day. Then I heard a most unexpected sound: laughter, and coming from multiple voices.
We followed Rhea through the winding path past the carved stone columns and statuary, until we came to the long, covered marble table and I saw the source of the laughter. There were women, all young, at least a dozen of them of various nationalities, and they all appeared to be talking at once. Every one was a handsome, healthy specimen of the female gender, all dressed alike in short-sleeved white tops and shorts such as Caitlin was now wearing. It looked as if the United Nations were fielding an all-girl Olympic sports team. With all the lovely women in the Garden of the Gods setting, I was reminded of the Samuel Coleridge poem: “In Xanadu did Kublai Khan a stately pleasure dome decree.” Of course, old Coleridge was just coming down from an opium high when he concocted that one. When we came within sight, several of the girls called out Rhea’s name and waved in happy greeting.
As we approached, Vanya himself came into view, still dressed for playing the part of Zeus and resting on his high-backed throne, smiling beneficently over the assembly. Rhea clapped her hands together and called out, “Ladies! Come. It is time for your lessons.” There was a general, good-natured chorus of groaning as the girls got up from the table and filed out toward the west-side building complex, all the while casting curious glances at Caitlin and me and whispering among themselves as they sauntered past.
Vanya raised a languid hand from the arm of his chair. “Welcome, Mr. Blake, Mrs. Blake. I trust you spent a pleasant night?”
