The Midas Code

by Boyd Morrison

  Stacy glanced at Tyler and shook her head. “It’s quite mysterious. Just the kind of thing we like to feature on our show.”

  Cavano laughed and returned to her seat.

  “Please, Dr. Benedict. There’s no need to go on with this farce. If you’ll sit down, I have something to tell you that I think you’ll both find very interesting.”

  A flash of alarm crossed Stacy’s face. Tyler shared the sentiment. This wasn’t good. But they were committed now. Might as well hear what Cavano had to say. He and Stacy went back to their chairs.

  “You have seen a document that was stolen before I could buy it,” Cavano said. “A manuscript referring to a map that leads to the treasure of King Midas.”

  “What makes you think that?” Tyler said.

  “Because Dr. Benedict called to ask about a puzzle created by Archimedes. That is the only reason you would ask to see my tablet.”

  “You’re jumping to conclusions.”

  “Not at all.” Cavano took a deep breath. “When I was nine, a boy and I were exploring the basement of a condemned apartment building in my home city of Naples when we came across a hidden room that led into a network of tunnels. We heard two men speaking around a corner and crept forward until we could see them stacking bags of white powder into crates. We immediately realized that the room was being used to hide smuggled drugs where the police would never find them.”

  Cavano’s eyes glazed over as she recalled that night.

  “The men must have heard our whispers because they stopped talking and ran after us, one waving his crowbar, the other taking shots at us with a gun. We were cut off from our entrance, so the two men chased us into the tunnels, screaming that their boss would kill them if we escaped to tell his enemies where they were. In the mad scramble, we became lost, but we couldn’t elude the men. We ran for what seemed like miles until we saw a glow reflected in our flashlights. We thought it was daylight and charged ahead.”

  Tyler hadn’t realized until this moment that he was sitting on the edge of his chair. Cavano’s tale was much more detailed than Orr’s.

  “We skidded to a halt in a chamber made entirely of gold. You may think I’m exaggerating, but every single surface was covered in a yellow metallic sheen. In the center of the room was a golden pedestal, and lying on the pedestal was a life-size statue of a woman who was perfect in every detail except that her left hand was missing. At one end, a pool of water bubbled, drenching the chamber in a steamy fog. On a high terrace at the other end of the room was a golden coffin, the sarcophagus of King Midas.”

  “How could you possibly know that?” Stacy said.

  “Because of what happened next,” Cavano said. “We took shelter behind the pedestal, where we were sure to be found, but there was no other exit. We were trapped. However, when the men entered, they completely forgot about us.”

  “I can understand why,” Tyler said.

  “After a few moments of staring in awe, the two men began to argue about what to do with their find. Neither was planning to report it to their boss, but they couldn’t decide how they were going to get the gold out without being discovered. They thought there might be bricks of gold or coins in the sarcophagus, but when the one with the gun turned toward it, the man with the crowbar bashed him over the head, killing him instantly. After putting the gun in his waistband, the second man pried the coffin open just far enough to reach inside. He pulled his hand out with a scream, as if he’d been bitten, and the lid slammed closed again.”

  “What happened?” Stacy said.

  “I don’t know. He held his hand like it was on fire. He tried to wipe it on his pants, but the screaming got louder. Then his hand went to his throat. As he staggered around in agony, he slipped and fell into the pool of water.”

  Cavano’s eyes gleamed, thrilled at recounting the tale, no fear at all.

  “Then the most marvelous thing happened. When we emerged from our hiding place to look at the man in the water, we saw that his hand had begun to turn to gold. It started at his fingertips and worked slowly toward his palm. In five minutes, nearly his entire hand had been consumed. He was a victim of the Midas Touch. There is no other possible explanation.”

  Tyler struggled not to roll his eyes, because the yarn was too fantastic, the fevered dream of some scared kids.

  “And why don’t you just go back and find it?” he said.

  “Believe me, I’ve been trying to ever since that day. We told our parents about the gold chamber, leaving out the part about the two dead men, but they were so mad about our all-night absence that they thought we were making up the story to avoid punishment. The apartments were torn down soon after, and a building for the Italian Ministry of Health was put up in its place. I ventured into the basement once after the construction was complete, but the concrete foundation had covered the entrance to the tunnels.”

  “That’s an amazing story,” Tyler said. “And I don’t believe a word of it.”

  “I think you do,” Cavano said, “otherwise you wouldn’t have taken on the job to find it. How much is he paying you?”

  “Who?” Stacy said a little too quickly.

  “The person who stole that codex from me.”

  “From you?” Tyler said.

  “The codex and the golden hand—the same one missing from the statue in the Midas vault—were to be auctioned, and I had a plan to obtain them before anyone else realized the secret those two treasures held. They were stolen from the auction house along with other valuables, and not a single item in the theft ever resurfaced. Until now, I thought the perpetrator of the heist was dead.”

  “Why do you think we know anything about that?” Tyler said.

  “Because this afternoon I received a call about an inquiry into an ancient Greek document, one involving the Parthenon, and the bearer of that manuscript happened to say he was working with Stacy Benedict.”

  Tyler felt his stomach drop to the floor. She was talking about Grant.

  “The only way you could have seen that manuscript is if you’re now working with the person who stole it,” Cavano said. “You see, the boy with me that night long ago in Naples grew up to be the thief who took the Archimedes Codex. He wasn’t just my friend; he was also my cousin from America. His name is Jordan Orr, and I plan to kill him.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  In the Duveen Gallery, specially built to display the Elgin Marbles, Grant wandered along the sculptures lining either side. The captions called them metopes, which were square reliefs that had decorated the exterior band running around the top of the Parthenon. Most of them were damaged in some way, whether by an explosion that blew the Parthenon apart in 1687, by weathering, or during their removal.

  At either end of the long gallery were the large three-dimensional pediment sculptures that had adorned the eaves of the Parthenon’s pitched roof. Like most of the sculptures Grant had seen in museums, a majority of the Elgin Marbles were missing their heads and hands.

  “Magnificent, aren’t they?” Dr. Lumley said behind him. The curator had followed a group of tourists into the gallery, so Grant hadn’t noticed him.

  “Couldn’t ask for better,” Grant said, even though they didn’t impress him. Maybe he was missing something. “The captions said something about the Parthenon getting blown up. What happened?”

  “A true tragedy. During its first two thousand years, the Parthenon had undergone damage when it was first converted into a church and then a mosque, but it was still recognizable as the temple of Athena. In 1687, the Ottoman Turks occupied Athens and were at war with Venice. For some reason, they thought the Acropolis was the best site to locate a gunpowder magazine. The Venetians lobbed mortar shells at the ammunition storehouse until one of them connected. The entire building blew apart, destroying many of the columns and sculptures.”

  Grant nodded knowingly. He and Tyler had been working on the modern version of an ammo dump for the Bremerton naval base. During the design phase, they had reviewed severa
l case studies of ammo storage and transport that had resulted in calamities, such as the World War I transport ship SS Mont-Blanc, which had collided with another ship and exploded in Halifax Harbor. It had been carrying the equivalent of three thousand tons of TNT when the ship blew up. Almost two thousand lives were lost, and five hundred acres of the city were destroyed, either by the pressure wave or by the sixty-foot tsunami caused by the blast. It was the biggest man-made explosion in history until Little Boy leveled Hiroshima.

  The devastation of the Parthenon hadn’t made the case list, probably because it happened so long ago. But Grant wasn’t surprised that the explosion had caused so much damage. In fact, he was more surprised that any of the building was left standing.

  “That’s a shame,” Grant said.

  “Indeed.”

  “So these are all the sculptures?”

  Lumley chuckled. “Goodness, no. Lord Elgin only procured half of the Marbles. The rest now reside in the New Acropolis Museum in Athens. Of course, they’d like to have them all, but we’ll let our governments wrestle with that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, the Greeks continue to argue that the Turks illegally sold the Marbles to Lord Elgin, who in turn sold them to the British Museum. The museum has maintained for years that the Marbles are safer here, but now that the New Acropolis Museum has a state-of-the-art facility for preserving the sculptures, the Greeks are keen to have the Marbles returned.”

  “And what do you think?”

  “There is great risk in moving them at all, but I prefer to remain neutral. I am an archaeologist, not a politician.”

  “So do you have the sculptures that are referred to in the manuscript?”

  “I think we may. You see, the manuscript refers to ‘the seat of Herakles’ and ‘the feet of Aphrodite.’ You may know Herakles better as Hercules.”

  Though Grant’s grasp of ancient mythology was limited to what he’d seen in the Disney movies his nieces watched, he nodded. “Sure. Herakles.”

  Lumley pointed at a reclining male figure from the east pediment. His head was intact, but his hands were missing. “Do you see that paw there?” Grant squinted and then nodded. Just the barest form of a great cat’s paw peeked out from under the robes the figure lay upon.

  “We believe that is a lion’s paw, which would indicate that the figure is Herakles.” Lumley moved to the opposite side and indicated two female torsos, one lying against the other. “No one has been able to determine with certainty who these figures represent, but I favor the theory that it is Aphrodite relaxing upon her mother, Dione.”

  The seat of Herakles and the feet of Aphrodite will show the way.

  Grant looked beneath the statues and saw that they were supported by a marble base.

  “What should be under the statues?” he asked.

  “They would rest on the pediment itself, which rests atop the pillars.”

  “So the seat of Herakles and the feet of Aphrodite are reference points. For what?”

  “It may help if I knew what you’re looking for.”

  Grant couldn’t reveal the link of Midas, but he knew that being too evasive would only raise more questions. He hesitated while he decided what to reveal.

  “We think this may be a clue to finding a map,” he finally said. “Maybe something about the architecture of the Parthenon.”

  “A map? How interesting. Perhaps the golden rectangle is important.”

  “How?”

  “Architects consider it the most perfect rectangle because it is so pleasing to the eye. Golden rectangles are a recurring feature in the design of the Parthenon. The symbol phi, which represents the golden ratio, is named after the Parthenon’s architect, Phidias. Let me show you.”

  Lumley took a notebook from his pocket and drew a line and then a dot two-thirds along its length. He labeled the longer section A and the shorter one B. “In the golden ratio, A divided by B is equivalent to the sum of A plus B divided by A.” He drew a rectangle whose sides were length A on the short side and length A plus B on the long. “A golden rectangle has sides proportional to the golden ratio, which makes it aesthetically pleasing.”

  “And the Parthenon is built in that layout?” Grant asked.

  “No, but the façades of the Parthenon are in the shape of a golden rectangle, and one can see many more of them in the spaces between the columns making up the façade.”

  Grant would bring up Lumley’s speculation with Tyler and Stacy, but he had no inkling of how it would help them find the map.

  “Thanks a lot, Dr. Lumley,” he said, shaking Lumley’s hand. “If I have any more questions, is it all right if I call you?”

  “Of course.” He gave Grant his cell-phone number. “Any time of the day or night.”

  Grant turned to leave, but Lumley tapped his arm to stop him.

  “Mr. Westfield, may I ask if your manuscript will be displayed anywhere in the near future? It will provide fascinating insight into the culture of ancient Greece.”

  “I don’t know what the plans for the document are.”

  “It would be a shame if such an important piece of history were not studied by appropriate scholars. Our museum would treat it with great care.”

  “I’m sure it’ll get a good home.”

  “On the other hand, if you are interested in selling it, I know a buyer eager to purchase it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That is, of course, unless you’d care to lend or donate it to the museum.”

  Why would Lumley have a buyer lined up for the manuscript already? Unless …

  Grant grabbed Lumley’s arm. “You haven’t told anyone about this, have you?” Lumley winced at the pressure, and Grant released him.

  “I’m terribly sorry,” Lumley said, “but my contact has been looking for this codex for quite some time. She has indicated that she would pay a handsome price to anyone who could proffer a deal for it.”

  “You would sell it?” Grant asked in astonishment.

  Lumley cast his eyes down in embarrassment, like a chastened teenage boy who’d been caught joyriding in his father’s car.

  “Facilitating the sale is a better way of putting it,” Lumley said. “Being a curator is not a high-paying profession, and my divorce has been messy and quite costly. I thought there would be no harm—”

  “When did you tell her?”

  “While you were waiting. I assure you, I have the best of intentions.”

  But she might not, Grant thought as he scanned the gallery for anyone who looked out of place.

  “Who is she?”

  Lumley bit his lip. “Her name is Gia Cavano. She simply paid me a retainer to keep watch for this kind of document. I do hope I haven’t inconvenienced you.”

  Grant recognized the name immediately. Orr’s childhood friend Gia. She was using her contact with Lumley to keep an eye out for the codex.

  As Grant reached for his phone to text Tyler that Cavano was now onto them, he spotted a huge man in a gray suit studiously reading a museum map. Twice in one minute, he glanced up and looked at each person in the gallery, but his eyes stayed on Grant just a little longer. Amid the tourists in shorts and rain jackets, the dark-haired muscleman looked as out of place as a wolf at a sheep ranch.

  Grant thought he was just being paranoid until a third surreptitious glance in his direction convinced him that someone really might be out to get him. And he’d bet that someone was hired by Gia Cavano.

  TWENTY-THREE

  For the past ten minutes, Tyler and Stacy had listened to Cavano explain her background with Orr, and Tyler didn’t like what he was hearing, mainly because it showed how much bad blood there was between them.

  Jordan Orr was Gia Cavano’s second cousin on her mother’s side. When Orr was just a boy, his family decided to take a trip back to his grandparents’ home region of Campania. Cavano’s parents welcomed them and hosted the three of them for two weeks while the Orrs visited Naples. It was duri
ng that time that Cavano and Orr went exploring and stumbled onto the Midas treasure.

  The Orrs returned to the United States, planning to come back to Italy every year or two, but Cavano didn’t hear from Orr again until many years after his parents died. She said it had never occurred to the authorities to send him back to Italy to live with his extended family. And by the time Cavano was an adult, and ready to follow up on what she’d seen in the tunnels, she couldn’t track Orr down.

  Five years ago, Orr took a trip to Europe and reconnected with Cavano. Only then did he learn that an Italian Ministry of Health building had been built atop the original entrance to the tunnel they’d discovered. It would take major demolition to cut through the foundation, and days more to map out the tunnels before finding the chamber again. But Orr and Cavano remembered the well opening they’d seen and realized that there might be another way in. He proposed that they search for this entrance to the vault.

  For three years, they combed through every available historical document that had even a passing reference to Midas or gold, but they could find no mention of the Midas chamber.

  Then the Archimedes manuscript and the golden hand were discovered in an English landholder’s attic and made headlines around the world. When she and Orr saw the golden hand, which matched the statue in the Midas chamber, they knew the one line from the manuscript that had been released to the public was not just a fable.

  He who controls this map controls the riches of Midas.

  The codex would lead them to the treasure map. Orr and Cavano realized that they would have no chance to get the manuscript once the auction house’s appraisal and cataloguing were completed and the document’s full contents were known. So they came up with the plan to steal it before the appraisal was done.

  The heist went off without a hitch and then … nothing. She had provided the muscle, including two men who had been loyal to her and reported Orr’s movements back to her without his knowledge, but everyone in the crew had disappeared without a trace. Cavano assumed the escape boat had gone down at sea with all hands.