Crusader's Gold

SIX

Later that day the team checked into a Best Western at random, knowing a dogged enemy could still track them but still mindful not to make the task too easy. After the rooms were scanned and bags dumped the team met downstairs for drinks and snacks. Beyond the marble tiled lobby with its domed chandelier and highly polished paneling lay a compact rest area, complete with easy chairs and plush couches. The walls were covered in studded leather and the floors deeply carpeted. Drinks and canapés could be ordered from remote controls housed in the seats’ armrests. Crouch shook his head at the advanced yet sterile technology.

“One more step away from human interaction,” he said. “First texting, then scrolling mobiles and now a computer-controlled waitress.”

“I like it,” Caitlyn said. “Progress is not possible without change.”

“Change is not always progress,” Crouch countered. “As said Henry Ford.”

“Didn’t he design the Model T?”

“Yup. And he made sure you could order it in any color so long as that color was black.”

The team settled unevenly, sprawling on the couches or throwing legs over the armchairs. Russo first waved Alicia away, but then good-naturedly cleared a pile of pillows to the side. Alicia gave him a sidelong glance.

“Chivalry is not dead.”

“Oh it is. I just figure to put you between me and the lobby. Just in case your crazy friend finds us and takes a pot shot.”

Alicia patted the hidden Uzi. “Kenzie? What? You don’t like strong women?”

“Oh I love ‘em. Just not with armies at their backs and a sackful of Uzis.”

Crouch leaned toward them. “Whatever you think of her, this Kenzie person presents us with a unique problem. Our success has already spawned a complex conundrum. How does a specialized team hunt down ancient artifacts without attracting the attention of those who would destroy or steal or hold them for ransom? Truth be told it’s not difficult to track anyone — even us — if you have the right tools.”

“It’s not like you can hop over to these places under the radar,” Caitlyn said, playing with her hair. “They require investigation. Exploring.”

“And quite often the cooperation of locals,” Crouch said. “As you know I do have my contacts, but they’re contacts built over many, many years. My guess is, even these men and women are not infallible.”

“Don’t worry,” Alicia said. “Whether they’re your contacts or not I still wouldn’t trust them.”

Crouch made a face as if he wasn’t quite sure how to take that.

Naz also leaned forward, stealing their attention. “I was not done. When the crazy treasure seeker attacked I was not done. My thought process on learning that the Hercules had joined the Horses in Constantinople went straight to Enrico Dandolo, if you remember? As you now know he was the forty-second Doge of Venice and a particularly distinctive, exceptional man. Blinded in his sixties or seventies he then went on, at age ninety, to lead the Fourth Crusade and even later a foray against the Bulgarians. He died in 1205.”

“The year after Constantinople was sacked,” Crouch said.

“Yes. After successfully relocating the Horses of St. Mark from the quadriga atop the ancient Hippodrome to St. Mark’s Basilica.”

Caitlyn waited for the real-life waitress to deliver their drinks before speaking. “We all know where he stashed the Horses,” she said with a wink. “But what did he do with the Hercules? Clearly, it wasn’t in plain sight.”

Naz nodded. “The one hundred — or much more — million dollar question. Was the statue a treasure so grand it was classified — assigned to be viewed only by the privileged? Was it deigned too valuable to show? Was it coveted, yearned for, perhaps beheld only by Dandolo himself? Hell, perhaps it was even forgotten. But I’ll tell you one thing—” Naz paused for a drink, first making sure that all eyes were on him. “The clues to its whereabouts are all around us.”

“Surely they need confirming.” Caitlyn sat back.

“Yes, sure, and there is one easy way we can do that. I was ready to start today when the crazy woman attacked.”

Crouch looked puzzled. “At the Hagia Sophia?”

“Yes, at the great church of Constantinople, where Dandolo himself once stood victorious. Do you know why?”

“Why don’t ya tell us?” Alicia said soothingly.

“Dandolo’s tomb. His body is inside the Hagia Sophia.”

“No way!” Caitlyn exclaimed. “The tomb of the guy who led the crusaders into this city and practically destroyed it lies inside its greatest church?”

Naz nodded. “And that’s where I was up to in my own investigation. About to visit the tomb, or more specifically the plaque of Enrico Dandolo to see what might be there.”

Crouch closed his eyes. “I’m guessing the actual tomb no longer exists?”

Naz sighed. “Another mystery. His grave was encased in a marble tomb. Some say it was destroyed by the Ottoman Turks, others by the Niceans. And though the tomb may have been destroyed, the grave still exists.”

“So what do we all do when we get there?” Alicia asked. “A polishing? If that’s the case I sure ain’t going near any bishops.”

Naz sighed. “We investigate. I thought you people were treasure hunters. Isn’t that what you do? Investigate? Follow clues?”

“We do.” Caitlyn reached out to lay a reassuring hand atop the archaeologist’s. “Alicia enjoys a little jokery.”

“I’m not joking,” Alicia confirmed, blonde hair whipping as she backed up her words with a nod of the head.

“Hey, I’ll throw down some Jim to that.” Russo suddenly held out his tumbler and knocked it against the feisty Englishwoman’s. “No more joking around. Let’s see how long that lasts.”

“Interesting that you should do that,” Crouch said, nodding at the tumblers. “The tapping together of glasses is a custom from medieval times and a sign of trust that your partner didn’t slip you a deadly poison.”

“Crap, that’s fine,” Alicia said, drinking. “So long as it doesn’t mean I have to marry the lummox.”

Russo sniffed. “See. Didn’t last long.”

“But I do trust you.” Alicia held her glass in the air again, and this time everyone tapped it. “To the Hercules Tare… tar… crap. To Hercules and all his muscles.”

“To Hercules,” the group echoed.

Crouch settled back. “Is everyone up for an early treasure hunt inside the Hagia Sophia tomorrow morning?”

“Can’t wait,” Alicia said, slamming her empty glass down. “Wake me at dawn.”

“It opens at nine. Tourist hours.”

“Oh, all right then. Let’s see if we can’t figure out this armrest thingamajig and order us another round.”

The buzz of alcohol did nothing to alleviate Alicia’s pain. The power of the rain shower failed to howl down the voices in her head. Nothing could. She sat in her hotel room, at a work desk, wrapped in a towel from neck to toes, staring at a blank sheet of paper and trying to physically map out her future. It was an idea that had come to her late one night — sit there, think ahead, and try to write something down.

Anything.

Something that might prove to be an anchor. Seeing that, written down, might give her a goal to strive toward. It might turn on a light bulb inside her head, chasing the darkness away. There had never been a path, a plan. But without one she was doomed.

Get it written down, even if you throw the sheet of paper away afterwards it’s still a start. A new start.

She picked up the pen, stamped a dot in the middle of the paper. A nucleus. It was a representation of herself, surrounded by nothing, heading nowhere. Life molded and changed you when you were young, events, sometimes menial, inexorably shaping you into the person you would become. Her own past involved a drunken father and a weak mother, both dead before she was twenty and forming the root of her problem and the reason she had started on this path. She was strong because her mother had been weak. She had lived through those days and would never take that from a man. Was it so hard to change now?

I like the person I am. How many people can say that?

But did she? Staring at the sheet of paper, blank apart from an empty black circle, she wondered where to go. The first detail she made was a simply arrow, facing upward, pointing ahead. The future. Then backwards — the past. One was indeterminate, the other inescapable. If all of life’s decisions were this hard how the hell did people ever get anything done? Did they just make it up as they went along? Did they?

Making plans was one thing. But life choices? That was entirely another. The room around her was so quiet she found it a little threatening. If she made just one decision tonight then that would be enough. Just one. Behind her the bed looked inviting, promising the restful slumber that never came. Tentatively she drew another line… this one aimed diagonally halfway between moving forward and standing still. A progressive sidestep. If a compromise existed that might help her future then that was it. The trouble was — how could she fit it into her real life? The Gold Team were moving ahead, now engaged on another treasure trail. The SPEAR team never stopped — every day seemed to bring a new adventure for them. Was there a way to sidestep and still be a part of both crews? Because stopping was never going to be an option.

Life was too short.

One life… live it. Don’t fuck around, just get involved and live it.

People died all the time. Good people. Not terrorists or asshole fanatics or corrupt figureheads or depraved gang members. Not sex traffickers or drug makers or gun runners or mass killers.

The good people died all the time. Innocent lives were lost every minute from the north to the south and the east to the west. If there was something inside Alicia that spoke truly it was a desire to help the good people of the world. This was what had changed her path long ago, from following the side of evil and switching to the side of good. No compromise.

Her eyes followed the new line — just a thin, inked arrow on a white sheet of paper — and wondered if it might change the course of her life.

Even save her life.

The question was — which name was waiting to be written above the arrow?