The Forbidden Tomb

59

Jarkko’s directions to the restaurant were spot on, much to the surprise of Cobb, who figured there was a damn good chance that the Finn sat on the bench all day, drinking his kafka, and randomly making up directions for wayward travelers in order to amuse himself. Then again, Jarkko’s affection for Sarah seemed so genuine that his moment of accuracy was probably intended to impress her rather than to reward Cobb.

Either way, the café was right where it was supposed to be.

And more importantly, so was Dr Manjani.

According to Seymour, the missing professor checked his e-mail every morning at Diosmarini’s café, using a local wireless network. Sometimes he remained online for minutes, and other times hours, but he made an appearance every single day. To find him, all they had to do was show up for breakfast.

The smell of roasted beans flooded their nostrils as Cobb tried to distance himself from the memory of the dreaded kafka. Though he longed for the biggest espresso that they were willing to make, he walked through the restaurant to the courtyard beyond where he spotted the professor at one of the ubiquitous white tables.

Manjani’s hair was shaggy and unkempt. Thick, bushy eyebrows pushed the frames of his glasses away from his face as he read from his laptop, forcing him to stare down his nose like Santa Claus checking his naughty list. He had dark circles under his eyes and his clothes hung loosely, as if he wasn’t sleeping or eating at all.

Cobb had seen several pictures of Manjani from the weeks and months before his disappearance, and the man he was staring at was a shell of his former self. If Cobb hadn’t been aware of the tragedy in the desert, he would have assumed that the professor was dying from cancer or some other horrible disease that ravaged its victims over time. Instead, he sensed the only things eating away at Manjani were his inner demons.

Remorse for the students who had lost their lives.

Shame for running away from his past.

Guilt over his survival.

As a former soldier who had lost men in combat, Cobb could identify with those feelings better than most. So much so that he could spot the suffering from across the room, like a pusher spotting a junkie. And yet, even though he felt empathy for Manjani — because based on everything he had heard, the professor was a good guy in a bad situation — Cobb knew that they were there for information, and he was willing to do just about anything to obtain it.

Cobb headed forward until Sarah grabbed his arm.

‘Slow down,’ she whispered as she pulled him aside. ‘So, what’s your plan? Are you going to stroll right up to him, tell him who you are, and lean on him for information?’

‘Pretty much. But you know, subtle.’

She smiled. ‘I’ve seen your version of subtle, and it’s typically anything but. How about you sit this one out and let me handle things?’

‘Sarah, we don’t have time for games.’

‘Jack,’ she said, ‘when you were in the Army, how often did you go up to the enemy, tap him on the shoulder, and ask him questions about his past?’

‘Define “tap”.’

‘That’s what I thought.’

‘What’s your point?’ he asked.

‘We did things different in the CIA. Much different. The trick is to get all the information that you need without arousing suspicion of any kind. You don’t want anyone to clam up because you asked the wrong questions or gave off the wrong vibe. Trust me, it takes a lot of panache to pull it off.’

Cobb grimaced. ‘Are you saying you don’t like my style?’

‘No,’ she assured him, ‘I’m not saying that at all. I just think this particular job might need a woman’s touch.’

‘Fine. Who did you have in mind?’

‘Very funny.’

‘I thought so,’ he said as he took a seat at an empty table on the opposite side of the patio from Manjani. ‘He’s all yours. Let me know if I can help.’

‘Just be sure to smile and wave when he looks your way.’ She pulled the tie from her ponytail and ran her fingers through her hair. ‘How do I look?’

Cobb shrugged. ‘Meh.’

She smiled. ‘You’re such an ass.’

‘Not really. I’m just lacking panache.’

‘Touché,’ she said before heading toward Manjani.

The patio overlooked the striking blue water of the Aegean. Waves crashed gently in the background as Manjani worked at the table he had commandeered near the far wall. The carafe of coffee and the empty plates that had yet to be cleared told Sarah that he was a regular, and that the staff were content to leave him alone.

She had to admit. His office had a hell of a view.

As she approached his table, Manjani caught her from the corner of his eye. He instinctively recoiled as he shielded his laptop from her prying eyes.

She caught it all and realized he was spooked.

She knew better than to ignore the reaction.

‘Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt. I was just wondering if you’re on the Internet right now?’ She pretended to catch herself. ‘Oh, umm, can you even understand me? Do you speak English?’ She started to pantomime her question, suddenly aware that she had no idea what gesture would convey the concept of the World Wide Web.

The bewilderment wasn’t part of her gambit, but it fit in seamlessly.

Her moment of honest confusion had broken the ice.

Manjani smiled. ‘Yes, I speak English. And yes, there is access to the Internet.’

‘Perfect!’ she gushed. ‘I hate to bother you, but can you tell me who won the game? We’ve haven’t seen a computer since the weekend, and my boyfriend is simply beside himself. The longer he waits, the grumpier he gets.’

Manjani stared at her. ‘Which game?’

‘Wow, I honestly don’t know. Sports aren’t my thing at all.’ She turned around and waved at Cobb. ‘Honey, which game did you care about again?’

Cobb didn’t have to pretend or lie. In the chaos of the past few days, he hadn’t found the time to check any weekend scores from the NFL. ‘The Steelers.’

‘The Steelers,’ Sarah repeated.

Manjani, who had much better things to do than to check scores for tourists, begrudgingly typed in the data and quickly found the result. ‘Pittsburgh won, 31-3.’

‘Yes!’ Cobb replied with a fist pump. ‘Thanks.’

Sarah lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Thank you so much. You just made his day — and mine. Maybe he’ll shut up now and enjoy himself.’

Manjani reluctantly cracked a smile.

‘I hate to push my luck,’ she said when she spotted an opening, ‘but do you know if there’s anything good to see around here? Besides the water, of course. We’re going to see enough of that while we’re sailing around the islands.’

Manjani stared at her quizzically.

His body was rigid and defensive, but his expression was soft.

Sarah wondered if he was actually thankful for the company.

‘Yes,’ he eventually said. ‘There’s a monastery on the eastern side of the island, not far. Near Chora. It’s built into the cliffs. Simply beautiful.’ He looked at her jeans. ‘You will need a long skirt. Women are not permitted to be dressed like this.’

She smiled. ‘Lucky for me, I brought one. My friends told me that it wouldn’t be tropical this time of year, so I brought plenty of long sleeves for the cool nights.’

Manjani nodded his approval. In the summer months, the temperature in the Greek Islands was typically in the low-to-mid-eighties. But in November, the temperature regularly dropped below sixty degrees.

‘Does this monastery have a name?’ she asked.

‘It is known as the Monastery of Panagia Hozoviotissa.’

‘Wow. Try to say that three times fast.’

He smiled. ‘It’s a mouthful, I know. It’s even worse in Greek.’

‘Wait! That was in English?’

‘Yes,’ he said with a laugh. This time, it wasn’t forced or stilted. After a rocky start, he seemed to be loosening up. ‘So, what brings you to Amorgos?’

Sarah stepped closer, placing her hand on an empty chair at Manjani’s table. ‘We’ve been meaning to do something like this for a while. We talked about Paris, or maybe Hong Kong, but then I saw the Greek Islands on a travel site. Beautiful scenery, friendly people, and really affordable in the off season. The plan is to bop around the Aegean for a couple of weeks, take in the sights, and eat as much baklava as I can.’

‘Sounds like a tasty plan to me.’

She laughed and pointed at the empty chair, asking for permission to join him. He considered the request for an unnaturally long time before he smiled warmly and closed his laptop, as if to say his computer could wait until later. It was obvious that he trusted her enough to chat for a bit but not enough to see what he was working on.

Still, his frosty demeanor was melting.

She eased into the seat. ‘Do you have any suggestions on what to see? We checked out the Acropolis in Athens before we caught our boat. That place was amazing. It’s, like, there’s American history — and then there’s Greek history. They’re, like, two completely different things. One’s modern and the other one’s ancient.’

‘I’m afraid I’m not much for history. At least not anymore.’

‘Really? I find that surprising.’

‘You do? Why’s that?’ he laughed.

She calmly placed her hand on his. ‘I was told differently.’

His smile withered. ‘By whom?’

‘Your old friend, Petr Ulster.’

She saw a flash of fear in his eyes and a lump catch in his throat. Then she noticed his muscles tense as he tried to pull away. With a few simple words, she had triggered his most primal instincts: fight or flight?

Manjani, who was unarmed, was too old for fisticuffs.

But he was very tempted to run.

She subtly shook her head. ‘You have nothing to fear. Not from us.’

He stared at her. ‘Then why have you come?’

Instead of answering, she leaned forward in her chair. She had only known Manjani for a few minutes, but it was long enough to get a feel for him. Her years of experience had revealed a lot about the man, and she needed to trust her skills.

She could see the guilt in his eyes.

He felt responsible for his team’s slaughter.

‘Dr Manjani,’ she whispered, ‘if you want to walk away, we’re not going to chase you. Honestly, we won’t. We’ll leave the island and disappear forever. But just so you know: you are the only person on the planet who can save our friend.’

‘Your friend? What do you mean?’

She pulled a folded copy of his map from her pocket and showed it to him. ‘Your map told us where to start, but we need to know more if we’re going to find her.’

‘Who?’ he demanded. ‘Who are you talking about?’

‘While we were exploring the tunnels underneath the city, our friend — our historian — was abducted by the men who attacked your team. To have any chance of finding her, we need to know what happened in the desert and how you got away.’

It was obvious that Manjani didn’t want to talk, much less think, about the details of the slaughter, and yet the guilt he felt was so pronounced it kept him glued to his chair, as if the bodies of the victims weighed him down. ‘And if I help you, what are you going to do about it?’

‘We’re going to save her and kill them.’

Her answer caught him off guard.

So much so, he needed a moment to think.

Manjani stared at his map as a wave of emotions crashed into him like the water against the rocks below. Somehow, someway, he knew that he would eventually be found on the tiny island of Amorgos, but he had always assumed it would be by the shadow priests of Amun, not a couple of Americans who were searching for them.

If not for the danger, the irony would be delicious.

‘Not here,’ Manjani said as he threw money on the table to pay his tab. Then he tucked his computer under his arm. ‘Come with me.’