“That we have.” Griffin couldn’t keep the elation out of his voice. “I wish you both could see it.”
“Yeah, it’s really cool with all the little squiggly hieroglyphs on the wings. And shiny too after all this time,” Cassie chimed in.
“Of course, we haven’t had time to decipher the symbols, but I suspect they are clues that will lead us to the second relic. It’s quite cunning how the Minoans—”
“Hey, can the chatter!” Maddie cut in abruptly. “You still haven’t said what it is!”
Faye gave her companion a reproachful look. “Let them tell it in their own way, Maddie.”
“Do you know how many minutes of actual sleep I got last night?” the operations director countered. “Notice I didn’t say hours.”
There was a pause on the other end as the receiver shifted to another person. “Nice going, chief. Now they’re too scared to talk to you at all.” The voice was Erik’s.
“Then you tell me and keep it simple,” Maddie demanded.
“It’s a bee. A solid gold bee maybe three or four inches big.”
“A bee,” Faye repeated contemplatively. “The bee was one of the most sacred symbols of the Minoan goddess.”
“Where did you find it?” Maddie asked. Now that her curiosity was satisfied, her anger seemed to abate.
“That was all Griffin’s doing,” Erik conceded. “Better let him tell it but don’t yell at him, OK?”
“I won’t.” Maddie actually smiled. “Scout’s honor. Put him back on the line.”
The scrivener cleared his throat. “Yes, well, Cassie deserves some of the credit. If she hadn’t pointed me in the right direction after reading Stefan’s artifact.”
Faye smiled knowingly. “Synchronicity,” she whispered.
Griffin was still talking. “I came to realize the connection between the pentagram and Sirius.” He then regaled them with an explanation of the star’s heliacal rising and the shadow cast across the calendar stones.
“Very clever of you, my dear.” Faye leaned forward to address the speaker box.
“We couldn’t have found the right spot without Fred,” Cassie chirped up again.
“Who’s Fred?” Maddie asked. “Is he one of ours? Do I have to cover his expenses too?”
“He works for Aydin Ozgur, the Anatolian trove keeper,” the pythia explained. “We sort of borrowed him to guide us up the mountain.”
“Is he there with you?” Faye asked.
“He’s right here.” The scraping sound indicated that Cassie was passing the receiver to someone else. There was a long silence. In the background, they could hear her urging Fred on. “Say something! Don’t be shy.”
“H…hello?” A hesitant voice emerged.
“It seems we owe you a debt of gratitude.” Faye addressed him. “Without your help, our hapless trio might still be searching in vain.”
A brief pause. Fred swallowed hard. “Am I addressing the memory guardian?” he asked in a timid voice.
Faye smiled encouragingly even though he couldn’t see it. “My dear young man, there’s no need to stand on ceremony. My name is Faye, and you have my sincere thanks for the part you played in this retrieval.”
“Y… y… you’re w... w... welcome.” Fred stammered. Apparently, the glare of the spotlight was too bright for his eyes because the receiver was being passed on to someone else. This time it was Griffin’s voice which emerged.
“I’m afraid we don’t have much time to rest on our laurels,” he cautioned.
“Damn straight you don’t,” Maddie commented. “Last I heard, Daniel and Hunt were getting ready to move on to Istanbul.”
There was an expressive sigh before Griffin spoke again. “Then it’s as I feared. We may only have days to make the substitution.”
“What do you need from us, dear?’ Faye asked.
“We have to get an exact copy of the artifact made. It will have to match down to the last detail, and then we’ll need to bury it in the box where we found the original. If we’re very lucky, the Nephilim won’t realize it’s a fake. If we’re even luckier, we’ll be out of the country before they stumble across it at all.”
“That’s gonna take some doing,” Maddie muttered, half to herself.
“I don’t get it.” The voice was Cassie’s, and she seemed to be carrying on a conversation offline with Griffin. “If you think those symbols on the bee are the clues to the next relic, why not just change some of them to throw the Nephilim off the trail.”
The two at headquarters could now hear Griffin’s muffled voice answering Cassie. “Because we actually want them to find the trail of breadcrumbs we’re leaving for them. It’s far riskier to give them false information that will misdirect them. It might cause them to cast a wider net. Might, in fact, lead them straight to the Arkana.”
“Oh,” the pythia replied simply. “I didn’t think of that.” Another pause and then Cassie spoke again. “But you’ve got to admit giving them accurate intel might mean that they get to the second artifact before we do.”
“Then we’ll just have to make damn sure that doesn’t happen.” The terse voice was Erik’s.
Griffin took control of the receiver once more and spoke directly to Faye and Maddie. “Can you locate someone at the Anatolian trove who has the necessary metal-working skills? We won’t have time to fly someone into the country from the Central Catalog.”
“Don’t worry, dear. Maddie and I will make arrangements immediately to get you the assistance you need.”
After another round of congratulations, the call was terminated.
The two women at headquarters looked at one another in silence for several seconds.
Maddie raised her eyebrows. “Tick tock,” she said archly.
“Tick tock indeed,” echoed Faye pensively.
Chapter 30 – Unmentionables
Zach prowled the house moodily for at least half an hour after his Gamma and her early morning visitor left. At that point, his stomach began to rumble, so he made himself some breakfast. He ate a bowl of cereal distractedly while he mulled a thought over in his mind.
Something was off. Of that much he was sure. The crazy lady with the frizzy hair was a smoker. He could smell cigarettes on her clothes. He doubted she could manage one lap around the block if her life depended on it. He didn’t buy the idea that she’d been out for an early morning run. The story didn’t wash. Then there was the first time he’d met her. Gamma said she’d come over to borrow a cup of sugar. For what? A neighborhood watch birthday cake?
He finished his cereal and rinsed the bowl in the sink. Then he wandered into the living room and threw himself down on the couch, still grappling with his mental dilemma. Absently, he picked up the remote and flipped on the TV. Basic cable! Nothing worth watching. Nothing to distract him from the idea that kept nagging away at him. He knew he didn’t believe the story they’d told him, but he wasn’t quite ready to take the next step. Was he really going to do this? Search through his own Gamma’s stuff? Looking for what? A secret decoder ring? A sliding panel in one of the walls?
He knew nothing was going to make his suspicions go away. Nothing short of actually ransacking the house and finding that everything was absolutely normal. But there were things about Gamma that had never really been normal in the first place. Like the fact that she never seemed to look any older. Sure, she was ancient. But she’d looked that way when he was five. In the past ten years, he couldn’t remember one more gray hair. Not one more wrinkle than she’d had when he was a toddler. Did people actually age slower once they got to be as old as she was? He didn’t know.
And why was it his own parents didn’t know how many “greats” came before grandma? Somebody on the family tree must remember. Nobody seemed at all curious about it. His parents, and their parents before them always referred to her simply as “Granny Faye.” Why didn’t anybody else seem to know how old she actually was? His whole family ought to
be featured in Ripley’s as the least inquisitive people on the planet. Absolutely unable to wonder or speculate about anything—except maybe how far you could push the expiration date on a carton of milk in the refrigerator.
He sprang up from the couch. He’d reached a decision. His parents might not be curious, but he sure was. He headed for the kitchen. He really didn’t expect to find anything unusual there, but he had to take it in stages. He’d leave the upstairs for last because if she was hiding anything that was probably the place where he would find it. He almost didn’t want to. In fact, he wanted to be proven wrong. Little old ladies were supposed to be harmless. They were supposed to live for their grandchildren and not have any other thought in their heads but coddling and spoiling the younger generation. He paused in the kitchen doorway. For the first time, it struck him how selfish that idea was. Why should anybody be expected to live for somebody else’s convenience? When she was younger, when she was still Faye and not Granny Faye, what had she wanted for herself? He shrugged at the impossibility of guessing the answer. Maybe someday he’d ask her if she’d ever had any dreams of becoming a pirate captain. He grinned at the idea. She would love the craziness of it. She was that awesome.
He walked across the kitchen to the pantry. Gingerly opening the door, he started moving boxes and packages of cake mix aside, looking for something concealed at the back of the shelves. No luck. Everything was utterly normal though someday he was going to have to have a serious talk with her about refined carbs and what that did to a person’s insides.
He moved on to the kitchen cabinets lining the walls. Nothing concealed in the upper shelves, nothing in the lower ones either. One of the drawers was locked though. He flashed on the moment two days earlier when she’d confiscated his cell phone and locked it in that drawer. She’d also thrown two cell phones of her own in there at the same time. What did she need two cell phones for? Maybe the second phone was a hotline for something? He almost laughed out loud at that idea. Yeah right. She’d be the first one contacted in case of a missile strike. Maybe he had too much imagination after all.
He shrugged and moved on to the dining room. China, crystal, crocheted table cloths. It was the epitome of little old lady land. So was the living room. He anxiously glanced at the grandfather clock in the hall. He’d been searching for about half an hour already. He didn’t know how much longer she’d be gone or if he’d have the chance to get to the bottom of it all. He eyed the stairway with dread. There was no point in putting it off. He had to search the upstairs.
He trudged up the steps, turning aside at the first door on the right. It was a bedroom that Gamma had converted into a work space. There was a sewing machine, lots of fabric in heaps on the floor. There was also a roll top desk by the window. He thought it might contain important documents. He rummaged through every scrap of paper the desk contained, but there wasn’t anything unusual. Just electric bills, phone bills. Business cards from eye doctors and chiropractors. He nervously peeked out the window and down at the street. He saw a few commuters leaving for the train station, but that was all.
He exited the workroom and looked down the rest of the hall. His room was at the far end, but he decided he would skip it. If she had anything to hide, she wouldn’t have given him the one room in the house where she had concealed something. No, there was really only one logical place where she might hide something out of the ordinary. Her bedroom.
He sighed and moved toward the closed door across from where he stood. He turned the knob and furtively peered around the corner of the door. He laughed at his own hesitation. “Dude, get a grip!” he told himself. It wasn’t like the place was going to be booby-trapped. He stepped inside. Morning sunlight flooded through the window. In spite of her hurried departure, she had made the bed neatly. The chenille bedspread didn’t have a single rumple or a crease. You could have bounced a dime off it.
Something was wrong, said the little voice in his head. He stood still in the middle of the room, just absorbing the atmosphere for a few minutes. At first, he couldn’t pinpoint what was bothering him, but the feeling had been growing ever since he finished searching the living room. Maybe it wasn’t so much about what was in this room as what wasn’t in it. He looked at the large mirror hanging over the double dresser. Didn’t little old ladies love to tuck pictures of their grandkids into the sides of their mirrors? Didn’t they love to plaster the walls of their houses with photos of drooling babies? Wasn’t that, in fact, the trademark of grandmas everywhere? So, where were they?
Zach thought back to all the rooms he’d searched. There wasn’t a single photo album, scrapbook or portrait anywhere. This room, this whole house, was almost impersonal. No mementos of her past. Didn’t grannies all live in the past? Especially one as ancient as Gamma? What possible future could she have? It was all past for her but where was it?
He thought he might be on to something. Maybe he wasn’t simply crazy or insanely suspicious. Emboldened by the idea, he felt ready to tackle the hardest part of this search. Her clothes. At least that was personal. He checked the closet first. Nothing but flowery house dresses which was practically Gamma’s daily uniform. No secret panel in the closet wall. He moved on to the dresser. He’d deliberately left that for last. First, he glanced out the window again. He had to wrap this up soon because if she walked in now, he really couldn’t explain what he was doing in here. He started with the bottom drawers. Lots of sweaters. Did she even own a pair of slacks? He doubted it. Probably before her time. He finally came to the top dresser drawer. The one he dreaded. Her “drawers” drawer. He turned his head aside, as he slid it open. The idea of old lady undies creeped him out. A wry thought occurred to him. His grandfather used to call them foundation garments. Maybe that would make it easier. Not panties and bras—foundation garments—like something you’d use to build a skyscraper. Still, even with the new terminology, the thought of rooting around inside the drawer made him feel like a real pervert. Stories he’d seen in the news about weirdos who liked to cross-dress flashed through his mind. He suppressed them.
He kept his eyes half shut as his fingers worked their way from the front of the drawer to the back. His eyes flew wide open when his hands touched something tucked into the very back corner of the drawer. It was a piece of paper, creased up and folded many times.
He drew it out carefully, replacing all the foundation garments he’d disturbed in his search. Then he sat down in the middle of the carpet and unfolded the sheet of paper. It was a letter. He began to read:
My Dear Little Sis,
I’m sitting here writing this and hoping that you never have to read it. The only reason you would come across this letter is if I’m gone. Maybe the danger will pass, and I can destroy this. Maybe not.
There are times when my work can be risky. This is one of those times. I’ve come across a find that has immense value to the people I work with, but it looks like somebody else wants this find too. Somebody who would be willing to kill for it. For the past week, I’ve gotten the feeling I’m being followed. It might be my imagination. In case it isn’t and in case something happens to me, I want you to call the number I wrote on the back of this sheet. Ask to speak to Faye. Give her the packet. She can explain everything.
There’s so much I want to say, but there isn’t enough time, and maybe it only comes down to this. I love you and everything I did, even when you didn’t understand it, was to keep you safe. No matter what you might have thought, I was always looking out for you.
Love,
Sybil
Zach looked up from the sheet. He could feel the blood draining out of his face. That must be what shock felt like. A cold, numb sensation. He stared back down at the page. One line leaped out at him. “Ask to speak to Faye. She can explain everything.” He didn’t know who the letter had been written to but whoever it was had been directed to find Faye. She supposedly could explain everything. Everything about this so-called find that somebody might have got
ten killed over. His Gamma could explain a thing like that?
He laughed to himself bitterly as a new thought struck him. He’d often said, “Gamma, you’re something else.” For the first time, he realized the irony of that simple phrase. She really was something else. Something other than a grandmother. Something other than a harmless little old lady. But what?
He folded the letter and returned it to its hiding place at the back of the dresser drawer. He needed time to process all of this. Time to let it sink in. He wasn’t going to confront her right away. First, he needed to think. Then he would ask. He was already dead certain he wasn’t going to like the answer.
Chapter 31 – A Little Night Music
The driver slapped on the brakes and jerked the steering wheel sideways. Two of the car’s tires hopped the curb as he took a sharp corner. Daniel slid across the slippery back seat and slammed into Hunt’s shoulder. The latter shrugged him off with ill-disguised contempt.
The driver yelled curses out the window in Turkish at a passing vehicle which he had nearly sideswiped.
Daniel was grateful he didn’t understand what was said but was sure it somehow involved the unnatural use of a camel. “Brother Ilhami, perhaps we should slow down,” he suggested tentatively.
“No, no!” The driver was vehement. “Is OK. Is all OK. We be there soon!”
He maneuvered the subcompact through the labyrinthine streets of a shabby Istanbul neighborhood. Loud music blared from the car’s stereo. Daniel had never heard its like before. A quavering wail with heavy brass accompaniment. It sounded like nothing so much as a cat being stuffed inside a tuba. When he thought his eardrums could stand the assault no more, the racket ceased. The driver switched off the radio, eased into a very tight parking space, and turned off the engine. Daniel’s ears continued to ring.
“We are here,” the driver announced happily. He slid his bulky form out from under the steering column and bustled around to the back of the car to unload suitcases from the trunk.
The Arkana Mysteries Boxed Set Page 45
