The Lost Labyrinth

THIRTY-NINE
I

Gaille woke abruptly to a dawn chorus outside her bedroom window, Iain's rhythmic exhalations upon her neck and shoulder, his arm around her waist; but it wasn't any of those which had disturbed her, and which now made her stiffen. It was her belated realisation of something he'd said just before they'd drifted to sleep the night before. 'I hate Athens. The worst thing about my job, I spend half my life shuttling back and forth.' Innocuous enough, except for that hollow laugh he'd followed it with. She hadn't picked it up at the time, but it was as though he'd realised too late that he'd said something stupid, and was trying to cover.

She turned slowly onto her back, tipped her head to the side to watch him lying there, his mouth fractionally open, the golden glitter of his stubble, the swell and fall of his chest. The one person who'd known what Petitier looked like, what he'd been up to these past twenty years. A man who, beneath his self-deprecating jokes, yearned for a great discovery. As quietly as she could, she lifted his arm off her. He stirred but didn't wake. She got to her feet, tiptoed out of the room, closed the door softly behind her.

His backpack was resting against the wall by the front door. Her breath came a little faster as she put her hand on it. The fabric felt faintly charged, as though lightly dusted with electricity. It ran against her nature, looking through other people's belongings, but she couldn't stop herself. She unzipped a side-pocket, checked the contents: a lighter and a box of waterproof matches, a torch, a multipurpose penknife, tattered maps of Crete and a handheld GPS. She went through the other pockets, equally stuffed with hiking supplies. The main body of his backpack was filled with clothes. She came across his photographer's trousers, scrunched the cotton for anything in the multitude of pockets. She found his wallet, checked it briskly, put it back. She felt something else, pulled it out. An Athens metro ticket. She turned it to the light, squinted down, went a little numb. It had been validated on the same afternoon that Petitier had-

'What the hell are you doing?'

Her heart skipped a beat. She looked around to see Iain in the bedroom doorway, wearing only his boxer shorts. 'You're up,' she said, stuffing the ticket back in the pocket, the trousers back in the pack.

'Yes. I'm up. Now what the hell are you doing?'

She didn't know what to say. She just squatted there, waiting for inspiration. 'I was only…' she began.

He began walking towards her, fists down by his side. 'Yes. You were only what?'

'I was looking for your first-aid kit.'

'Oh.' He stopped short. 'What for?'

'My ankle,' she said. 'I wanted some new bandage. This one's getting dirty and stretched. You don't mind, do you?'

'Of course not,' he said, though warily, as though he didn't quite buy her story. He crouched and unzipped the lower compartment, pulled out the kit.

'I didn't want to wake you,' she said. 'You had such a brutal day yesterday. I wanted to be gone and back by the time you woke.'

'Gone and back?'

'I have to find out what's happening with Daniel and Augustin,' she nodded. 'I have to. It's driving me crazy. I thought I could climb high enough to get a signal on my mobile.'

'On your own? With your ankle still crocked? Are you mad?'

'I wouldn't take any risks.'

'What do you mean? Just climbing that path is a risk.'

'It's my choice.'

'Really? And who would have to rescue you if something went wrong?'

She hung her head. 'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I guess I wasn't thinking. But I just…I need to know.'

He sighed and put his hand on her shoulder. 'You shouldn't even be thinking of climbing on that ankle, not for another day at least. Tell you what, why don't I head back up myself. I'll call Knox, tell him what we've been up to, pick up his news. And we can make plans for getting you safely out of here. How does that sound?'

'Terrific,' she said, forcing a smile. 'And thank you so much.'

'My pleasure,' he told her; but there was still something in his eye. His gaze drifted to the Mauser leaning against the wall. 'And maybe I'll take that with me,' he said. 'See if I can't bag us something fresh for tonight's pot.'