The Lost Labyrinth

II

The Mazda was locked, but Knox could see discarded packaging on the passenger seat. 'He's armed,' he told Angelos bleakly. 'He's got himself a hunting knife.'

'Don't do anything stupid. I'll send cars.'

'Cars?' asked Knox. 'How long before they get here? How long before they can get to Gaille?'

'A helicopter, then. I'll call the army.'

'It'll still be hours,' said Knox. 'I can't wait. Gaille can't wait.' The track zigzagged upwards towards the pass between two high peaks high above him, but he picked a more direct line and set off up it, as fast as he could without exhausting himself. A bell tolled on a distant slope, and monks began to chant. It sounded almost like a funeral. The ground was thick with purple lavender that buzzed with insects. He passed through a collar of scorched pines out onto steeper slopes of gaunt rock. It took all his strength of will to maintain his pace until he'd made it up to the mouth of the pass.

It grew easier at once, the flatter terrain and a cooling wind blowing in his face. He ran as fast as his weariness and the treacherous footing would allow. Gaille must have come this way with Iain. The thought reminded him of his earlier suspicions about his university friend. He'd forgotten them completely in the shock of Angelos' news about Mikhail, but surely they were worth reporting. He checked his mobile. He still had enough signal to make a call.

'I'm getting your helicopter,' Angelos promised. 'You have to give me time.'

'It's not about that,' panted Knox. 'I think I know who that man in the CCTV is.'

'And?'

'His name's Iain Parkes.' He came to a wire fence, its stakes topped by animal skulls. He pushed down the top strand and straddled it. 'He's an archaeologist at Knossos. And he's with Gaille right now.'

'Okay,' said Angelos.

'Okay?' protested Knox, as he continued along the pass. 'She's stuck on her own with two killers, and you're telling me it's okay?'

'I didn't mean it like that. It's just the coroner sent over his toxicology report earlier. He now thinks our initial assessment was wrong, that Petitier wasn't killed by a blow to his head, after all.'

'What?'

'It was a heart attack, almost certainly brought about by an overdose. His system was flooded with drugs. Cocaine. Opium. Speed. Acid. You name it. I've never seen levels this high. You could boil down his blood and sell it on the street for millions.'

'An overdose,' muttered Knox in disbelief, as he recalled Augustin lying in intensive care.

'Theofanis thinks it happened like this,' said Angelos quickly. 'Petitier was an addict, that much is clear. Mixing with other people is hard after twenty years on your own. Not to mention giving a talk to a large conference. He'd have wanted a big stash close to hand.'

'That's why he was protecting his bag? Because it was filled with drugs?'

'It makes sense. I mean, we've been trying to find out what flight he came in on, but none of the airlines have any record of him. So now we're thinking maybe he came by boat instead, because he couldn't risk his bag being searched. Anyway, he gets to the hotel, Augustin lets him in, then leaves. He's confused, he's stressed, he thinks he's being followed. He takes something. Then something else. A real cocktail, uppers, downers, whatever he's got. He begins to feel unwell. He feels unclean. People often do with hallucinogens; their skin crawls. He takes a shower. He has his first cardiac event, not fatal but severe enough to make him fall. He hits his head against the taps. His scalp splits open, he's disoriented. He knows he needs a doctor, but he can't risk anyone finding his drugs or it could mean years in gaol, so he struggles out of the bathroom, dripping blood, and takes his overnight bag out onto the balcony. He rips it open, flings his drugs over the railing, then goes back inside for the phone. But he doesn't make it in time, he has his second heart attack, and it cripples him. And then he just lies there dying, unable to do anything until you and Augustin come in.'

'LSM,' muttered Knox.

'I beg your pardon?'

'His last word to me. Not Elysium. LSM. It's a variant of LSD that he experimented with. He was trying to tell me what drugs he'd taken. And his final croak. Cocaine.'

'I've suspended Grigorias,' said Angelos. 'I want you to know that. And we'll hold a full and independent investigation. You have my word. I've already sent a team to look in the alley beneath the balcony, see if we can find those drugs.'

'The hotel keeps its trash there,' Knox told him. 'I heard them collecting it yester-' A gunshot cracked out ahead, echoed ominously off the pass walls. 'Jesus,' said Knox. 'Did you hear that?'

'I'll get you your helicopter,' promised Angelos.

Knox stuffed the mobile back in his pocket as he ran. Two more shots sounded, giving strength to his heavy legs. The pass suddenly dropped away ahead of him and he reached the precipitous brim of a massive caldera. He scanned the plain at its foot, the fields, the house, the high surrounding cliffs. His eye was snagged by movement in a sea of yellow gorse far away to his right, where a figure shrunk by distance advanced upon another huddled in a clearing. Even from this distance, he knew it was Gaille. He yelled as loudly as he could, but the wind threw his shouts back uselessly in his face. He looked down at the excuse for a path beneath him: however recklessly he took it, he couldn't hope to get to Gaille in time to help her. But there was a track of sorts leading around the rim of the escarpment, and maybe if he got to the cliffs above her…

His legs were already aching and weak, but he steeled himself for one last effort, and set off.