Crusader's Gold

THIRTEEN

Alicia listened as Crouch told his tale, at first surprised to find Crouch had such a horrific nemesis in his past, but then remembering that in the end they were all just soldiers. Could any man who had seen combat say any different? Nemeses came in many different forms and for every person who lived their lives.

Riley, it seemed, had bided his time and remembered his promise to Crouch on finding out he’d left the Army. Anyone who held a grudge for that amount of time should be taken seriously, no matter their proclivities, but in the case of Riley the threat was a thousand times worse.

Caitlyn spoke into a sudden silence. “I’ll start some research. If we can find out what Riley’s been doing since ’97 it might give us some kind of an advantage.”

Crouch agreed. “Start with Interpol. Riley’s base of operations has always been Eastern Europe.”

Alicia considered Crouch’s story carefully. It was an event she knew fleetingly through past chatter. “Seven civilians and three soldiers were killed that day.”

Crouch nodded. “Three SAS soldiers. But Riley, he is the master of disappearance. We never got near him again.”

“I have to ask.” Healey looked like he was about to burst. “What’s next? Do we abandon our search for the Hercules to concentrate on Riley? Is that what you’re saying?”

Crouch blew out a long gust of air. “Ahhh, I don’t know. Riley has to be dealt with. If we allow him to operate I guarantee you he will end us all, publicly, with the highest amount of civilian casualties he can accomplish. But as for the fate of the Hercules…”

“It can wait?” Alicia said.

“It has waited all these years. But when a particular ball gets rolling so, usually, does another. Take Kenzie for example, and anyone she might have told. There may well be others. Rolland Sadler has to seek various permissions from local authorities to allow us to seek these treasures out — special access and the like. Criminals get wind that something is afoot, or they pay to hear from those in the know. I can guarantee you now that from our actions so far at least a dozen outsiders know what we’re up to.”

“And it’s what some of them might do to the Hercules that worries us,” Caitlyn put in.

“So we swing both ways.” Alicia cracked a smile. “I can handle that.”

Russo shook his head. “It’s a bit of an alien concept for the rest of us,” he said. “How can we juggle two such erratic variables?”

“It’s this simple,” Crouch said. “Riley will find us wherever we go. So let’s do what we have to do and make sure we’re ready for him.”

Russo accepted this logic by clamping his mouth shut. Alicia slapped his broad shoulders. “C’mon, Robster. Is it true that men can’t multitask? Or can even a slow, witless old Neanderthal like you make it work?”

Russo shrugged her off, growling softly. Healey cast a long glance toward Caitlyn. Alicia thought about the obvious wisecrack but then decided to let the two lovebirds be. The pair hadn’t had a lot of luck just yet.

Is that me growing again? Is it? What the…

A weight hovered just above her shoulders, a weight that if it settled could literally crush her into dust. It lowered by the day, occasionally by the hour. Only situations like the one she faced right now kept it in the air.

“And on to business,” she said quickly, seeing Venice emerge out of the cloud cover below. The beautiful island city spread out, appearing through the right-hand window as the pilot banked and turned in. A series of curves and channels, densely packed dwellings and a huge bridge like an outstretched arm, it diverted her with its intense attractiveness. The others were also staring.

“The Hercules Tarentum, being the greatest work of the greatest sculptor, will become a free-for-all if we allow it,” Crouch said. “The chase is now on, like it or not.”

“Speaking of Lysippos,” Caitlyn said. “In school and through later studies I always believed Michelangelo or possibly Bernini were the greatest sculptors who ever lived.”

“Most famous, yes. I guess it’s arguable, but Michelangelo will always be known for the Pieta and David, both of which he sculpted before he was thirty. Bernini is known for so many works of art, including the Apollo and Daphne and his own David, the Baroque answer to Michelangelo’s Renaissance original. Now what do all these and so many more have in common?”

Caitlyn thought about it for a time. Finally, she said. “They all still exist.”

Crouch slapped an open palm down onto the table. “Exactly. They exist. All we have from Lysippos are copies, fakes and remolds. But consider this — even the copied Horses of St. Mark have been worshipped for thousands of years, fought for, and considered among history’s greatest works of art.” He paused. “Copies.”

“Add to that the Alexander the Great connection…”

“And the Colossus of Rhodes being made by his pupil.”

“Can’t hurt having an original ancient wonder on your pupil’s resume.”

“And to Lysippos’ stature add Eros Stringing the Bow. Agias. Hermes of Atalanta. The Alexander statues, from which the man’s very image is now taken for granted. Alexander’s horse — Bucephalus.”

“Okay.” Alicia thought it wise to stop Crouch as Venice grew clearer through the window. “But all we know is that Dodo brought the Horses to Venice after he sacked Constantinople.”

Crouch tried not to glare at her. “Dandolo,” he said, “stole the Horses and placed them atop St. Mark’s Basilica. And there they stand today. We must apply a well-educated guess that the Hercules was also brought here by Dandolo and secreted away. It has certainly never turned up anywhere else and, indeed, why wouldn’t it have been here? Dandolo was the Doge of Venice, it was his city to command. Of course he brought the Hercules here.”

“For himself?” Caitlyn ventured.

“Undoubtedly. But not exclusively. You remember he was blind? I believe this was merely the spoils of war for a mad, old and dying Venetian. A trophy. One-upmanship. The Bugatti Veyron of 1204. ‘Here, take a gander at my Horses. They used to stand atop the Hippodrome, you know. Do you like them? Well, here, let me show you this little secret treasure…’ ”

Alicia laughed. “Did you read that in a book?”

“Probably.”

“So where do you think he hid the Herc?” Alicia quipped.

“We’re about to find out.” Crouch said confidently. “But from here on in, guys, it’s deadly. No slacking off. No breaks and definitely no free time—” He gave Alicia an odd look.

Alicia frowned. “If you’re referring to my time with Beauregard I don’t count that as exactly free. If you do then try bouncing—”

“Either way,” Crouch interrupted. “Beauregard’s not in Europe. Stay close, all of you. Watch each other’s back like never before. We’re about to land and when Riley hits he will do so with devastating effect.”

Alicia nodded with the rest of them, suddenly out of breath, knocked off-kilter. She wondered if anyone else picked up on it. How the hell does Michael know Beauregard’s not in Europe?