The Minoan Cipher

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

The key to Kalliste’s house on Santorini was kept at a taverna owned by her cousin, who insisted that Hawkins and Abby have a glass of raki and a plate of local snacks called mezes. He peppered them with questions about how they knew Kalliste, the famous archaeologist, then said that his mother would open the house for them. They could hardly keep up with the skinny lady in the black dress and stockings as she scuttled through a network of narrow alleys to a small, tree-lined square and down a narrow set of stairs to the two-story house that looked like one marshmallow stacked on top of another.

They had flown into the busy tourist town of Thera and caught a cab to Oia, a quiet village at the westerly tip of the island. It had been a couple of years since Hawkins had been to the house to celebrate the end of the research expedition, and he was glad to have a guide, especially after the raki.

The old woman unlocked the turquoise-painted door and pushed it open.

“Kali mera,” she said, flashing a gold-toothed grin. “Sleep good.”

“Kali mera efaristo,” Hawkins replied. Good evening and thank you.

The old lady cackled like a happy hen, handed him the key and scuttled off.

“She’s a joyful old soul,” Abby said.

“I think she was waiting for me to carry you across the threshold.”

“You didn’t even do that on our honeymoon, Matt. You were too much in a rush to consummate the marriage.”

“Then I owe you one.” He picked her up, stepped inside and set her back on her feet.

Abby burst into laughter. “I never knew you Neanderthal types could be so gentle.”

They were standing in a large combination living room and kitchen. The white-washed walls were decorated with colorful Greek textiles and photos of Santorini’s famous cliff towns.

He led the way to the rear of the house, outside to a paved terrace. Below a wrought-iron fence, cube-shaped houses and domed churches were built into the dark gray cliffs that wrapped partially around the flooded caldera. Hawkins pointed to an island almost directly opposite the house.

“That’s Therasia. Off to the left is Nea Kamini where you can still see volcanic fumes that seep to the surface.”

“It’s breathtaking,” Abby said. “Is there any danger of another eruption?”

“It’s never really stopped erupting or shaking things up with earthquakes. A monitoring system should give plenty of warning for the next one. Let’s see if we can find a good spot for the sunset.”

They locked up the house. Hawkins shouldered the knapsack that had become part of him and they strolled through the warren of alleyways to the foundation of an old castle that was jammed with visitors gathered to watch the spectacular sunset. The fiery sun painted the sky red as it plunged into the Bay of Ammoudi. After the show, the selfie-snapping tourists boarded the buses for Thera. Hawkins and Abby stopped for coffee and made small talk, then headed back to the house.

Kalliste had arrived. Through the open window she could be seen bustling around in the kitchen. The pungent fragrance of garlic and oregano wafted on the breeze. Kalliste greeted them with a warm smile and hugs. She had picked up groceries on the way in from the airport and was cooking fish with tomatoes and onions.

A taxi dropped Calvin off around a half hour later. After a dinner washed down with a dry white Santorini wine, they gathered at the table.

Hawkins glanced around at his friends and he smiled. “I’m reminded of the scene in Dracula where Dr. Van Helsing pulls the troops together and spells out what they’re up against. Kalliste’s house is a lot more comfortable than a rat-infested old chapel, but the forces we’re dealing with are just as murderous as the old bloodsucker.”

“Damn it, Hawk,” Calvin drawled. “After all that garlic we had for dinner, no self-respecting vampire would come closer than a hundred miles.”

Laughter rippled around the table.

“Wish it were that simple, Cal. First of all, a question for Kalliste… or Calvin. Did you notice anyone on your travels that aroused your suspicions?”

“Got anything specific in mind, Hawk?”

“Yep. Tall, skinny guys dressed in black. They shave their heads and paint their scalps blue.”

“You serious, Hawk?” Calvin said.

“Deadly serious, Cal.”

“No blue heads in black,” Calvin said. “Just run-of-the-mill tourists on my flight.”

“The same with me,” Kalliste said. “Please tell us, Matt, exactly who and what are those forces that we’re dealing with?”

“First, let’s go over what we do know. A Minoan ship is discovered off the coast of Spain. Kalliste pulls together a survey expedition to check it out. Someone sinks the survey boat with missiles. A second survey indicates failed attempts to dive down to the boat going back centuries. Finally, helicopters come in and blast the crap out of the wreck site. Right so far?”

Abby nodded. “The helicopter part isn’t exactly eloquent, but it’s an accurate description.”

Hawkins asked Calvin to close the window shutters. Then he unzipped the knapsack, lifted out the treasure and set it on the table.

“Kalliste and I think this is similar in design to the Antikythera computer, but instead of computing the position of the stars, it is a language translator. Abby and I went to Crete to show this device to an expert. Before we could talk to him he was murdered by the blue-headed characters who chased us down.”

Calvin slowly spun the device around. “Looks like a prototype can opener.”

“You may be right, Cal, but this little can opener is worth killing over.”

“It’s not what it is, but what it can do,” Kalliste said. “I believe it can translate the Minoan script known as Linear A.”

“Why is that so important?” Abby said. “Who cares, outside of historians and linguists, whether the script can be translated or not?”

Speaking in a quiet voice, Hawkins said, “Someone does. Can we get this thing to work, Calvin?”

“I’ll give it a try.”

He got a plastic case out of his duffel bag and opened it on the table. The case contained an assortment of tools. Calvin took out a small but powerful flashlight and a magnifying glass attached to an extending handle. He examined the mechanism like Sherlock Holmes studying a spot of blood, then switched off the light and looked around the table.

“There is corrosion, but the gears are workable if we’re careful. Haven’t figured out the power driver yet. Probably had a crank arrangement. Gears are going to need a squirt or two of lubricant.”

“How long will it take to get it working?” Kalliste said.

“Can’t say. This gadget didn’t come with an operating manual.” Sensing her impatience, he added, “Maybe you can study the lettering, zero in on the linguistics capabilities while I figure out the mechanics of the device. Then we’ll compare notes.”

Hawkins and Abby volunteered to act as research assistants, jotting down the observations of the experts.

The front door of the house opened and the old woman stepped out into the square. She was bent over, talking to a hungry stray cat that was meowing loudly. Her eyesight was poor, but even with 20/20 vision she might never have seen the shadowy figure that emerged from the stairway leading down to Kalliste’s house.

Leonidas waited until she went back inside before dashing across the square to the door of his rental property.

He had hovered near a window that gave him a view of Hawkins and his friends clustered around a strange object. He couldn’t hear their voices clearly after the window was shuttered, but from the excited expression he’d seen on their faces, he could tell that the thing was very, very important.