The Minoan Cipher

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

The man splashed through the Paris sewers with a look of sheer terror on his handsome face. He would have run faster, but he was carrying an unconscious young woman over his shoulder and the dead weight slowed him down. In the other hand was a sputtering torch. He kept glancing over his shoulder, but the danger lay ahead. The creature that stepped out of an alcove and crouched in his path wore a ragged shirt and pants, and was standing on two legs like a human. But its face, hands and paw-like bare feet were covered with thick fur. The teeth that it bared as it uttered a low growl were those of a canine. With no other weapon to protect him, the running man thrust the torch into the creature’s face. It reeled and let out a loud howl, then turned and disappeared into the darkness.

Someone yelled, “Cut!” and the tunnel was flooded with light.

The woman slung over the man’s shoulder lifted her head, “Let me down, you brute.”

He set her on her feet and squinted against the glare of floodlights.

“Where’s Wolfie?”

The creature walked into the light, and said, “Where do you think I’d be after you tried to set my whiskers on fire?”

The woman laughed, “Poor doggy. You wouldn’t get such rough treatment if you didn’t jump out and scare people.” She went over and kissed the furry cheek. “Ugh. Smells like burnt plastic.”

The young man grinned, “Sorry Wolfie. Didn’t mean to singe you. We’ll buy you some dog biscuits after the shoot.”

The creature lifted the mask off his face to reveal another handsome actor. “I’ll settle for a Pernod, unless I have to do another take.”

Lily Porter stepped out from behind the lights. “If this was Masterpiece Theatre that’s exactly what I’d do. The Hidden History channel is a cheapskate and we can’t afford to wreck another mask. But I think there’s room in the budget to celebrate the end of the shoot. Let’s put Werewolves of Paris in the can with style.”

The three actors cheered, joined by the electricians and cameraman. No one liked working in the damp, smelly, rat-infested sewer system. The technical crew started to take down the lights and pack up the camera. Chatting happily, Lily and the actors headed for the ladder that would take them to the street. Yellow tape had been stretched on pylons around the manhole opening.

Lily said she would meet them in a nearby brasserie after they had a chance to shower and change their clothes. She waited for the technical crew to emerge from below the street and filled the team in on the plans, then headed to the hotel to clean up.

She showered for a long time, dried her reddish-blonde hair, and changed from her coveralls into a short leather black dress, high boots, horizontally-striped leggings and a waist-length black leather jacket. Lily was tall and slender and would have looked good in a burlap bag. She left the hotel and was walking to the brasserie when she heard her phone chirp. She put the phone to her ear and looked up the street.

“I see you,” she said.

The black Citroen sedan pulled up to the curb seconds later. A rugged-looking driver got out and opened the back door. She slid in beside Salazar who ordered the chauffeur to take them for a drive.

“You should have told me you were coming,” Lily said. “I don’t like surprises.”

“My apologies. I thought it best to meet in person and was on my way to your hotel. I heard from Crete. The news is not good.”

“Don’t waste my time with unnecessary drama, Salazar.”

“Then I’ll get right to the point. Hawkins has escaped.”

“And the device escaped with him, I assume.”

“As far as we know, it is still with him. It gets worse. Two of the Priors who went after him are dead.”

Lily’s jaw hardened.

“Tell me what happened. From the beginning. Omit no detail.”

“Our informant told us that Hawkins was going to Crete to see Professor Vedrakis at Gournia. As you asked, I passed the information on to the team of Priors, who went there, killed the professor, making it look like an accident, and waited to ambush Hawkins, only to flee when someone started shooting at them.”

“Did they see the shooter?”

“No. He or she was hiding behind some rocks.”

“Is Gournia where the Priors died?”

“That came later. They followed Hawkins to the island of Spinalonga. A short time later, the Priors were found dead. The police believe that they fell down some stone stairways.”

“What of the others in their team?”

“The Priors, called North and South, stayed on the mainland to cut off escape. When they lost contact with the other men, they followed them to Spinalonga. The bodies of East and West had been found by then. Hawkins. He had escaped.”

The temperature in the car seemed to drop twenty degrees. Salazar squirmed under the unrelenting stare. When Lily spoke again, her voice was harsh.

“Priors are trained assassins, Salazar. They don’t fall down stairways. Was Hawkins alone?”

“No. He was with a woman.”

“Find out who she is. Where are the surviving Priors?”

“Still on Crete, waiting for orders.”

She thought for a moment about the crone’s comment back at the Paris sanatorium. How the descendant of King Minos was disturbing the equilibrium of the Way of the Axe. It had all started with Kalliste’s intention to identify the ancient shipwreck. It was Kalliste who brought Hawkins in, Kalliste who connected Hawkins to Vedrakis. It had been right in front of her eyes all this time.

“Tell them I want them to go to Athens immediately,” she snapped. “Kalliste Kalchis has an apartment there.” She rattled off the address of the apartment building. “Make her tell them where Hawkins is.”

“Should she be disposed of once she does that?”

“No. Keep her alive. Now tell me about the status of the event in the United States.”

“Good news there. The demolition team has the explosive charges in place. All is ready when you give the word. Nothing can go wrong.”

“Things have been going wrong since the discovery of the ship. This is too much to be coincidence. There are unseen forces at work here, Salazar.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The Mother Goddess is angry. She is warning us that she is thirsty for blood. The sacrifice must be of the highest order. No prostitutes dragged off the street as in the past.”

The car had gone in a circle and was back where it had originally picked Lily up. She got out and watched it disappear into the Paris traffic. She stood there as if in a bubble that insulated her from the noise of the city. In that unnatural silence, the voice of the crone called from afar.

The prophecy must be fulfilled. She is near. She must die.

She was starting to understand what the old priestess had told her. It had all started when the girl escaped thousands of years ago, never to be found. Through his daughter, the king still lived. Someone alive now carried the king’s seed, and until that person was killed — as the prophecy said must happen — one thing was very certain: The Mother Goddess would continue to hunger for blood.