The Exodus Quest

TWENTY-FIVE
I

Knox had drifted off into a restorative sleep in the Latin Cemeteries. He woke to footsteps slapping the paving slabs outside. For a moment he feared he was bound to be discovered, but the footsteps passed by without changing cadence. He waited for silence, pushed himself grimacing to his feet, his body stiff. He hobbled out of the cemetery, bought a Menatel card from a general store, then found a secluded phone-kiosk from which to call Augustin.

'Cedric, mon cher ami!' boomed Augustin, the moment he recognized Knox's voice.

Knox picked up his cue at once, switched smoothly to French. 'There are people with you?'

'A fine officer of the law. He speaks some English but I think we're okay in French. Hang on a second.' Knox heard some muttering, Augustin's hand clamped over the mouthpiece. Then he came back on. 'We're fine,' he said. 'I just called his mother a fat sow. Not a flicker.'

Knox laughed. 'What are you doing with the police?'

'On our way to Borg.' He gave a quick rundown of what he'd learned about the Texas Society of Biblical Archaeology, their links to UMC, their excavations in Cephallonia. Then Knox filled Augustin in on his mystery assailant, and how he'd made off with his laptop.

'Shit!' exclaimed Augustin. 'I only just bought the damned thing. But you're okay, yes?'

'I'm fine. But I need somewhere to hide out. I thought maybe Kostas. Pick his brains while I'm there. But I can't remember his address.'

'Sharia Muharram Bey. Number fifty-five. Third floor. And tell him I want my copy of Lucretius back. Bastard's had it for months now.'

'Will do,' said Knox.