The Lost Labyrinth

III

Knox was struggling to concentrate on Augustin's talk. Gaille had begun her nightly routines in the bathroom, and she'd left the door teasingly ajar. She turned, as though aware of his attention, and wagged her toothbrush at him. 'How many times do I have to ask you to put the cap back on my toothpaste when you're finished,' she told him. 'It's grown a beard now. You know how I hate toothpaste beards.'

'Yes,' he smiled. 'I know how you hate toothpaste beards.'

She scowled good-naturedly and flicked her toothbrush at him, spraying tiny white specks his way, before turning back to the basin. He watched her fondly. She was wearing her favourite of his old T-shirts, baggy enough on him that it hung like a miniskirt down to her thighs, modest enough most of the time, except for when she leaned forwards to spit out toothpaste, and showed a little more. She was brushing her teeth with her usual rhythmic vigour, swilling water and gargling it around her mouth before spitting out the white froth, then rinsing her toothbrush out and pointedly turning to him to screw the cap back on the toothpaste before replacing them both in the tooth-glass, diligent as a schoolgirl. Then she began to brush her hair, twenty strokes with her right hand, twenty with her left. The same routine every night. These past few months, Knox had grown so used to it, he rarely even noticed any more. But every so often, like tonight, it would strike him fresh again, and he'd feel blessed.

'Come to bed,' he said.

'In a moment.'

They'd been friends and colleagues before they'd become lovers, always an awkward transition-unless lubricated by copious quantities of alcohol, at least. It had been the Akhenaten affair that had convinced Knox to do something. He'd come so close to losing her that he'd realised how much she meant to him. He'd planned to ease himself in, a romantic dinner say, edging the conversation round, a couple of loaded jokes, a flirtatious look or two, gauging her reaction, keeping his lines of retreat open. But it hadn't happened like that. The world's media had clamoured for an interview with them both until Yusuf Abbas, Secretary General of the Supreme Council, had finally buckled. He'd arranged a single press conference in the hospital's lecture hall on the morning of Gaille's discharge. She and Knox had sat side-by-side behind a trestle-table, deflecting questions as best they could, just as Yusuf had instructed them, leaving the journalists little option but to go fishing.

'So, then?' asked a Frenchman with a straggled red goatee and beaded hair. 'Is there anything-how can I put this?-of a romantic nature between the two of you?'

Gaille had looked to Knox to see which of them would answer, then had leaned towards the bank of microphones. 'No,' she'd said. 'We're colleagues, that's all. Business partners.'

The opportunity had been too good for Knox to let pass. 'You see what I have to put up with,' he'd said, lounging back in his chair. 'You rescue a girl from Macedonian separatists, you save her from drowning, and what does that get you these days? Colleagues! Business bloody partners!' He'd spread his arms wide, looked to the packed ranks of journalists for support. 'I mean come on, guys. Back me up here. I mean, don't you think I've earned at least a date?'

'You've never even gone out on a date with him?' asked the Frenchman incredulously.

'He's never asked me,' Gaille had protested, throwing Knox a reproachful glance. 'Not in that way.'

'So,' he'd smiled. 'I'm asking you now.'

'Really?'

'Yes. Really.'

Her throat and cheeks had turned marvellous colours. Her eyes had sparkled. 'Then yes,' she'd told him. 'I'd like that very much.'

She came back into the bedroom now, running her hands like combs through her hair. 'What?' she asked suspiciously, when she saw him gazing at her.

'Nothing.'

'Sure!'

'It's just that sometimes I forget how beautiful you are. And then you come in looking like that.'

She threw him a knowing look. 'Not tonight,' she said. 'I'm knackered.'

'I didn't mean it that way,' he laughed. 'I only meant that I sometimes forget how beautiful you are.'

'Oh.' Those familiar warm colours rose again on her throat and cheeks. They tugged and twisted his heart every time, like a Chinese burn. 'Then, thanks.' She pulled back her side of the duvet, clambered inelegantly, almost childishly, into bed. He got under the duvet too, stretched his foot across, ran his bare sole down her calf. 'God, you've got cold feet,' she protested.

'I could put my socks back on,' he said. 'I hear you women find that really sexy.'

'Irresistible.'

He felt a reprise of gladness for her presence, but this time it was followed by its own shadow. Happiness was a most precarious thing when you'd lost as many loved ones as he had. What with Petitier's death, and those goons in the lift, Athens felt like a perilous place right now. He didn't mind taking a little risk himself, but it was different with Gaille. He rose up onto an elbow. 'You're okay with all this, right?' he asked. 'With helping Augustin and Claire, I mean?'

'Of course,' she frowned. 'How could you think otherwise?'

'How far would you be prepared to go?'

Her eyes narrowed, sensing something, though not sure what. 'Why do you ask?'

He put on his best guileless face. 'It's just, we've been putting all our thought into what's going on here in Athens,' he said. 'That's sensible enough, because Athens is where everything has happened so far. But maybe we're missing a trick. We know for sure that Petitier's found an important new site in Crete, thanks to those seals he sent Nico. There's every chance he was murdered for what he's found there. It could easily be the key to this investigation. And it isn't here in Athens. It's in Crete.'

Gaille folded her arms. 'No,' she said.

'No, what?'

'No, I'm not going.'

'I didn't say you should.'

'You were about to.'

Knox didn't bother to deny the charge. She knew him too well. 'Someone needs to,' he said. 'Surely you can see that. It can't be Claire. She'd never leave Augustin's bedside, not at a time like this. And it can't be me. I've got this bloody lecture to give, and the police made it damned clear that I'm to stay in Athens. Anyway, all we've got to go on is some Linear A and Linear B seals, and you know far more about both those scripts than I do.'

'But I don't know anything about Crete,' she protested. 'I wouldn't know where to start.'

'The British School has a major operation at Knossos,' said Knox. 'Villa Ariadne, where Sir Arthur Evans lived while he was excavating. One of the archaeologists there is called Iain Parkes. He was at Cambridge with me.'

'Then why not ask him to track down Petitier?'

'Come on, Gaille. It's not just a matter of finding out where Petitier's been living for the last twenty years. Someone needs to go there, poke around, see what Petitier's been up to. I can't ask Iain to do all that. It's too much. I haven't seen him in ages. But I'm sure he'd help you get started.'

'If you haven't seen him in ages, how do you know he's even there?'

'Because after we decided to come here, I got in touch with him and asked if he'd be here; but he told me no, that he'd be minding the store.'

'I don't want to go,' she said. 'I want to stay with you.'

'We need to find out what Petitier brought here,' insisted Knox. He reached for his mobile. 'Look. I'll call Iain. You check out what tickets are available.'

'Now?' she asked.

'It's Easter weekend, Gaille. If we leave it till morning, who knows when you'll be able to get a flight?'

She stared into his eyes, trying to read the truth; but he held his nerve and didn't look away and finally it was she who broke. 'You really think this could help Augustin?' she asked.

'Yes. I really do.'

'Fine,' she sighed.

'Good,' he said. He leaned across to kiss her on the lips. 'I love you,' he said.

'I love you too,' she replied. But, for the first time since they'd initially made their declarations, he wasn't quite sure that her heart was in it.