Stolen Heritage: Gripping Crime Thriller (Private Detective Heinrich Muller Crime Thriller Book 3)

by Robert Brown

  “Who is it?” he demanded in Greek.

  Thalia’s voice replied. “It’s me. Is everything all right?”

  “Yeah, fine. Go to sleep.”

  “You were shouting.”

  “I said everything’s fine!”

  “Let me in.”

  Heinrich growled, sprang up, and opened the door.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Jan’s run away,” he said, slumping on the bed.

  “Oh no, what happened?”

  Heinrich wanted to tell her to go back to her room, that there was nothing she could do, but instead he found himself pouring out the whole story, from when he’d first saved Jan from the Communist protestors to Heinrich’s visits to Jan’s discipline problems and to his final break with the halfway house. By the time he was done, he had his head in his hands, trembling all over, while Thalia rubbed his back.

  “I got to go,” he said at last. “I’m sorry, but I got to go find him. The police will track down these assholes.”

  “Heinrich, listen to me. No, don’t turn away. Listen. You’re needed here. Wandering around Warsaw won’t accomplish anything. You don’t even know if he’s still there. And even if you found him, then what? Force him back into the group home? He’d only run away again.”

  “I can’t just leave him on the streets!”

  “The police are on the lookout for him. They know the streets better than you do. They have a better chance of finding him. The best thing you can do for him is solve this case and get that job in Warsaw. What Jan needs isn’t a quick fix, but long-term stability. Finding him and hauling him back to that place won’t fix anything.”

  “But—”

  “You know I’m right. Look. We’re here, and I think we’ve almost tracked them down. Sooner or later they’ll go to that Internet cafe, or we’ll find them up in Mistra tomorrow. Just hang on one or two more days and then you can get out of here. Jan will turn up, and then you’ll have something solid to offer him.”

  Reluctantly, Heinrich nodded. She was right, of course. Even if he ran off now and found Jan, he would ruin the chance of giving him a stable life. And then it would be only a matter of time before the kid was on the streets again.

  He had to keep going with the case. He had to solve it.

  Tomorrow.

  Jan wouldn’t last on the streets much longer than that.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  After a sleepless night and an email from the halfway house telling him there was still no sign of Jan, Heinrich was in no mood to play tourist to some medieval ghost town. The only thing keeping him there was Thalia’s reassurance that they were on the right track. Still, he soaked up a huge amount of roaming fees constantly checking his email, at least until they got out of range as the archaeologist drove them out of town, through a wide olive grove and up a steep hill.

  Outside the right-hand window, the Grecian countryside spread beneath them—the little village clustered at the base of the hill, the flat green fields dotted with olive trees, a few pastures where sheep grazed, and the town of Sparti beyond. The air smelled clear and fresh in the early morning, and Heinrich could see for miles. He knew this view should be taking his breath away. It was just as he had imagined Greece, but he had thoughts only for the case and that dumbass kid who had gotten himself in trouble yet again.

  “Are we there yet?” Heinrich asked.

  “You asked that less than two minutes ago,” Thalia said. “You sound like my nephew.”

  Beyond her, out the left-hand window, the bare rock of the hillside rose up almost sheer, topped by a formidable medieval wall. They wound their way higher and stopped at a widening of the road. Before them stood a medieval gate with an ugly prefab ticket stand beside it.

  They parked, paid their entry fee to a sleepy old caretaker, and passed through the gate…

  …and into the strangest place Heinrich had ever seen.

  An overgrown cobblestone road led up the steep slope between crumbling walls of tan brick. Here and there a building still stood, with walls of patterned brick pierced by regular arches and soaring domes topped by the same brick. Many of the buildings looked like churches, but there were regular homes too. Heinrich peeked inside an open doorway and saw the humble rooms of a house that hadn’t been occupied for hundreds of years. Passing around back, he came to another little lane that led to what Thalia told him had once been a monastery. It clung to the almost sheer slope, standing atop a platform of worked stone. From the stone rose a stout brick building with a colonnaded walkway along the front and a three-story bell tower.

  All was silent. They were miles from the city, too far to hear its sounds, and no other people walked through the ruins or appeared at the doorways of the buildings still standing.

  “So what are we looking for?” Heinrich asked as he surveyed another building. This one had eroded to walls of only waist height. He wondered what it had once been.

  “Anything changed. Anything out of place. I’ll know it when I see it.”

  Heinrich nodded, looking around at the ghost town. A good third of the buildings still stood, and the rest remained clearly demarcated by the remains of their walls.

  The archaeologist wandered around the ruins, sticking to the buildings that had fallen into disrepair. Like in the field the night before, she squatted down and studied the ground, occasionally probing it with her fingers. There wasn’t much earth there. The rock of the hill stuck through in many places, but any time she came to an area where nature had taken over and grass and weeds poked up from the old floors and courtyards, she studied the ground.

  Thalia moved along another, wider road that was better kept. They came to a wrought iron gate. Peeking through the gate, Heinrich saw a sun-soaked courtyard with what looked like dormitories to either side and a little brick church at the end. A cat lay languidly in the sun. A door opened in one of the side buildings, and an old nun holding a broom waddled across the cobblestones, heading for the church.

  “Nice to see some life here,” Heinrich said. The stillness of the place had started creeping him out.

  “This nunnery has been here for centuries,” Thalia replied. “Let’s check those ruins farther up the hill.”

  Following her, Heinrich checked his phone, hoping for a call from Jan, or the halfway house, or Biniam. Anyone. There was no signal. He held his phone high and tried it in various locations but had no luck.

  Anxiously, he watched his companion, reminding himself that Thalia knew what she was doing. In this business, he’d long ago learned to leave the specialist stuff to the experts. Trying to rush them or even help them just slowed them down.

  So he followed Thalia around as she poked and prodded and stared at the ruined walls.

  He fought his mounting impatience. Damn it, why couldn’t they have a signal at this place? Wasn’t it a major tourist attraction?

  Come to think of it, while they’d been there the better part of an hour, he hadn’t seen anybody except the caretaker at the gate and that nun.

  After a few more minutes of searching and still seeing no one, Heinrich asked Thalia about it.

  “The tourists all go to the big places like the Parthenon or Delphi or the islands. Most haven’t even heard of Mistra, yet it’s one of our greatest sites.”

  “Well, the buildings are all right,” he said. Actually, they looked a bit plain. It was amazing so many still stood, though.

  Thalia took him by the hand. “You don’t sound convinced. Follow me.”

  She led him to one of the larger brick buildings built around two circular towers, like church towers. They passed through a narrow doorway.

  Heinrich gasped. The building’s interior, from the walls and sides of the square columns to the interior of the dome, was painted with somber frescos depicting the saints, Jesus, and scenes from the Bible. Here and there hung silver-framed icons that looked relatively new, though Heinrich could tell the paintings were original … and old.

  “T
hese were done in the time of the Palaeologian dynasty,” Thalia explained, “the last to rule the Byzantine Empire, although it wasn’t much of an empire by then. Just Constantinople, parts of Greece, and a thin strip of Asia Minor. Their power was gone and it was only a matter of time before the Ottoman Turks took over.”

  “This doesn’t look like art made by a civilization in decline,” Heinrich said, staring in awe at a beautiful fresco that covered the dome’s interior. It showed a dusky-skinned Christ with a halo of real gold. Behind him arched a sky of pale blue dotted with gold stars. Surrounding the dome was a series of windows through which the Mediterranean sun shone so brightly, it almost hid the support pillars between the windows. The effect was that the dome looked like it was hovering in midair.

  “Yes, the Byzantine Empire was in decline. It was old and tired. No political power, no military might, almost no land, but it’s never too late to make something beautiful,” Thalia said.

  Heinrich looked around. “So where’s the guard?”

  “No guard, except at the gate and one guy who does the rounds.”

  “But someone could come along and just scrape this stuff off.”

  Thalia shook her head. “These pieces are too recognizable. They’d be hard to sell on the black market.”

  “But people steal famous paintings.”

  “True, but those have more prestige value. These aren’t in much danger. What I’m looking for is evidence that they’ve been digging around here. Let’s go to the palace. That would be a prime target. Byzantine jewelry fetches a high price.”

  Heinrich reluctantly left the church, stopping at the doorway to take a final look.

  “There are churches like this all over the Peloponnese,” Thalia said. “Especially when you get to the very south of the peninsula. Byzantine churches, monasteries, Crusader forts, old coves where pirates lived until just a century ago, not to mention all the Classic and prehistoric sites. It’s my favorite part of Greece and hardly anyone comes down here.”

  “Sounds like it would make for a good road trip.”

  Mentioning travel made him think of Jan and all the places he had promised to take him. That made him think of the poor kid out in the streets of Warsaw, alone.

  “Let’s get going. Where’s that palace?” Heinrich asked.

  Thalia led him uphill. Heinrich saw the Crusader castle looming above them. For a moment he thought he detected movement on one of the parapets, but the impression was fleeting. When he stopped and stared, he saw nothing.

  “Come on,” Thalia urged him, moving ahead.

  She led him to a broad, open field broken by the foundations of walls and bases of what Heinrich guessed must have been square towers. Beyond the field stood a brilliantly preserved building that looked like it was only a century old rather than the over half-a-millennium years in age that Thalia said it was.

  It was a plain, solid-looking structure of red brick, with an arcaded front and a series of arched windows. The sight was marred by a latticework of scaffolding that covered the entire front.

  “This was the Palace of the Despots,” Thalia explained. “The Crusaders built it in the thirteenth century.”

  “The Crusaders?”

  “Back in the thirteenth century they were on their way to the Holy Land and stopped at Constantinople. They saw how rich the city was and decided to conquer their fellow Christians instead. They took over part of the empire for a time.”

  “Nice. No wonder the Greeks called them Despots.”

  Thalia chuckled. “You’re forgetting your Ancient Greek. Despot just meant a ruler with absolute authority. The Byzantines used the term for their own rulers at this palace after they got rid of the Crusaders. It was the local ruler for Morea, usually the emperor’s second son. Later, when Morea was the sole surviving bit of the Byzantine Empire, a local dynasty ruled here.”

  Thalia began poking around the field of ruins. Heinrich was tempted to take a peek inside the old palace but he had to stay with her. He glanced up at the castle again, feeling uncomfortable that they stood in plain view. He hadn’t been able to bring the rifle here, either. It lay hidden in the trunk of the car, half a mile away. If they got into trouble, it might as well be a million miles away.

  Heinrich scratched the bandages on his arm. The pain had subsided somewhat, but the wound remained sore and itched terribly.

  “I thought so!” Thalia said. She brushed aside some cut grass to reveal a circular patch of disturbed soil about the size of a dinner plate.

  She moved to another spot. It was only after she got there that Heinrich noticed that it too was covered with cut grass. Thalia brushed it aside and revealed an even larger patch of disturbed earth.

  “Damn it!” she said. “Right in the middle of Mistra. These guys are scanning the area with metal detectors and then digging whenever they get a hit.”

  “What do you think they’re getting?”

  “Coins, jewelry, even spearheads and swords. All of that would fetch a good price on the black market.”

  “Well, we have our proof, here and down in Sparti. Let’s go to the cops.”

  Yeah, go to the cops and then we’re done. I need to get to Poland.

  Thalia stood and looked around the field, glaring. Then she turned to glance at the castle.

  “We need to check there too.”

  “I think I saw someone up there.”

  “There’s a caretaker.”

  “Then they haven’t busted in there.”

  “Caretakers can be bribed.”

  “Then we’ll learn nothing or get lured into a trap.”

  Thalia turned to him, suddenly angry. She took a moment to compose herself, then said in a level voice. “Look, I know you’re worried about your kid. But we need to gather as much information for the police as possible. You’re the detective. I need your advice.”

  “My advice is that we don’t go up there.”

  The argument was cut off before it really got started. From across the field of ruins, they saw three hulking men walking in their direction. They were still well over a hundred yards away, but Heinrich recognized two of them.

  One had been in the collection of mug shots Lambros had shown him.

  The other was Unibrow, the man who had killed Professor Christodolou back in New York.

  The third man he didn’t know, but Heinrich focused on him because he was reaching into the pocket of his hooded sweatshirt and pulling out a compact pistol.

  “Run!” Heinrich said, grabbing Thalia.

  The archaeologist struggled and tried to throw herself on the ground.

  “They’ll shoot us!”

  “They’re at long range. He can’t hit us from here,” Heinrich said, hauling her along. “He’s just trying to scare us. Plus I don’t think they’d dare fire with that nunnery so close by.”

  Heinrich was correct. Unibrow put a warning hand on the other man’s gun arm, and the three of them burst into a run.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Heinrich pulled Thalia through the field and into the palace. They found themselves in a shadowy hallway. Thalia pulled him to the left, jogged to the right down another hallway, and then ran to the end where another doorway lay open.

  Just before they emerged, they stopped and peeked out. An overgrown lane ran downhill between ruins. An intact church stood not far off. They saw no one.

  “We have to get down to the gate where the caretaker is,” Thalia said.

  “And the gun, more to the point. How well do you know this place?” Heinrich asked, darting a look behind him as he heard the echo of distant footsteps. Their pursuers had entered the palace. “Can you get us down there without being seen?”

  “Maybe,” she said, tugging.

  Maybe would have to be good enough. The place was like a maze, and Heinrich had no clear idea where the front gate stood other than that it was somewhere downhill. The buildings and the steep slope kept them from seeing it.

  They burst out of the doo
rway and into the open sunlight. Heinrich glanced around. Still clear.

  Then the thug from the mug shot came sprinting around the corner of the palace, angling to cut them off as they hurried down the lane.

  There was no way to hide, and this guy ran like a pro.

  “Keep going!” Heinrich shouted, pushing Thalia ahead of him.

  The thug slowed down long enough to reach into his pocket. Heinrich ducked behind the meager shelter of a heap of rubble.

  To his immense relief, the guy pulled out a knife and not a gun.

  His buddy had a gun, though, and maybe Unibrow did too. It must have been their footsteps that Heinrich had heard in the palace. They would appear at any moment.

  Heinrich stood, a fist-sized rock in each hand.

  He threw a rock straight at the criminal’s head. The man ducked to the side, then ducked again as Heinrich’s second rock came at him.

  He wasn’t so lucky with the third. It hit him square in the chest. The antiquities thief stumbled back a step, gasping for air.

  “I could have played for the Mets!” Heinrich mocked him, grabbing and throwing three more rocks in rapid succession. The first caught the man on the knee, sending him to the ground. The second was a miss, but then Heinrich clocked him on the top of the head.

  The man fell flat on his face.

  Heinrich sprinted for him, eager to get his knife.

  A movement beyond the doorway caught his eye. The other two lowlifes were running down the hallway, barely fifty yards from him.

  Heinrich made a quick right turn and ran after Thalia, who had gone a considerable distance downhill. Quite a good runner. He had always liked athletic women.

  Too athletic. She was faster than he was and was beginning to pull ahead. The lane ended at a T intersection with an old brick home blocking the path. Thalia went right and disappeared behind a wall.

  “Oh shit, don’t leave me behind.”

  He glanced over his shoulder and nearly fell flat on his face when he tripped over a cobblestone. He’d seen enough to know the two thieves were hot on his trail. They hadn’t gained on him but they hadn’t lost any distance, either. He hadn’t had time to notice whether they carried knives as well as the gun that at least one of them had. However, it didn’t take a genius to know what would happen if they caught up with him.