The Lost Labyrinth

III

Franklin had been generous enough to offer Knox a bed for the night; now he followed up by insisting on driving him to a nearby Metro station so that he could make his breakfast with Nadya. The train arrived just as he reached the platform; he had to squeeze into a crowded carriage, uncomfortably aware that he was still wearing yesterday's shirt.

He got off at Monistariki. A woman in unnecessarily high heels grabbed the escalator handrail in front of him and clung on like a first-time ice-skater. It was overcast when he emerged into the square; hawkers showed off their latest toys, while others spread out fake designer handbags and pirated DVDs on blankets. He glanced up at the white marble of the Parthenon, the camera flashes of early-bird sightseers giving off sparks like a glitter-ball. A boy blew bubbles that drifted on the light breeze, keeping Knox company as he walked along a narrow street of restaurants and shops. He found himself caught up with a Japanese tour party; they seemed to be heading towards his cafe, so he allowed himself to be swept along with them, fighting an urge to yawn. They emerged into a small square, most of the buildings showing patches of fresh paint: this was too important a tourist area for graffiti to be tolerated. Several mopeds were chained against the high wall to his right, the perimeter of some historic site. This whole area was studded with them. He and Gaille had already visited several during their-

He heard the man before he saw him, shouting into his mobile phone as he scanned the crowds, a hand clamped over his ear to block out the hubbub. The giant from yesterday, not a doubt of it, but he hadn't yet spotted him. Knox instinctively span on his heel and hurried away, his head ducked, his shoulders hunched, pushing his way through the tourists, praying his luck would hold. At the corner he risked a glance around. To his dismay, the giant was coming after him, bullying his way through the crowds, yelling into his phone. Knox broke instantly into a run, though it was impossible to move quickly through the narrow thronging streets.

He reached again the small square, saw two more of the Georgians from the day before converging from his right and from straight ahead. They saw him and shouted out to each other, forcing him to flee to his left, the only direction open to him, up a steep cobbled lane. A man was lopping branches from a tree with a petrol-powered chainsaw. For a mad moment, Knox considered wresting it from him and fighting a desperate rearguard until the police arrived; but the Georgians were too close behind him. And now he saw yet another of them striding purposefully towards him. There was a narrow alley to his right. At least it was empty of people, allowing him to break at last into a full-blooded sprint, put some distance between himself and the pursuit. The alley kinked so sharply right that his soles lost grip on the polished cobbles, and he crashed hard into the facing wall, falling onto the ground and scraping his palms, picking himself instantly up and running on.

The alley kinked again; he slowed a little to take this corner, keeping his eyes down to make sure of footing. But when he looked up again, a white van was parked immediately ahead of him, its rear doors open, blocking the full width of the alley. And then, even as he heard the Georgians running up the alley behind him, he saw Mikhail Nergadze leaning against the wall with his arms folded, looking distinctly pleased with himself at the ease with which he'd driven his lab rat here through this Athens maze.