The Minoan Cipher

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

The explosion that had melted Chad’s handsome features into a mass of scars had cauterized the emotional center of his brain. But he had been touched by Hawkins’ reaction to his disfigurement. Hawkins hadn’t been revolted, nor did he show pity. He had been scarred as well; the only difference being that his wounds weren’t visible.

Hawkins had said little on the flight back to Cadiz. Chad figured he was analyzing the recon. The news wasn’t good. The unseen castle defenders were alert and ready to deal with any intrusion. Even if infiltrators made it past the double defensive walls, they would be operating blindly. If Salazar had Kalliste prisoner there, she was dead meat.

Back in his hotel room, he liberated a bottle of single-malt whiskey from the courtesy refrigerator, poured a glass straight up and settled into a chair. He took a few sips of whiskey, enjoying the smooth burn of the liquid trickling down his throat, then punched a number on his phone. The call was patched through a series of connections to the top floor of the Auroch Industries building. An unmistakable voice came on the line.

“Salazar.”

“Hello, Mr. Salazar. This is Leonidas. Hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”

Silence. Then, “I told you not to call me.”

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry I was nasty to the two guys you sent over to see me.”

“You’re not really sorry, Leonidas, but I’m curious how you managed to kill two professionals?”

“They got sloppy.”

“In that case they deserved to die.”

“They were sloppy about delivering my money, too. Wondered if we could try again without the fireworks.”

“Count yourself lucky that I’m too busy to follow up, Leonidas. Consider your life as payment enough. Don’t call me again. Ever.”

Slam.

Chad stared at the phone in his hand. “I guess that was a no.”

He drained his glass, went to his bedroom and opened his make-up kit. Peeling off his handsome California surf bum face, he replaced it with a new layer of fake skin that was several shades darker. He tucked foam under the skin and darkened the eye pouches with touch-up. Then he added fleshy cheeks and jowls. He hid his hair under a fake bald scalp and touched up the edges with make-up so they would blend into the skin. Next came the beetling eyebrows. He smiled at himself in the full-length mirror and practiced Salazar’s silky voice. After several tries he got it within range.

He phoned a men’s clothing store he had seen in the hotel lobby, said he needed a suit immediately and was willing to pay for it. He gave the clerk his measurements and said he wanted black, with a light blue shirt and yellow tie. Black dress shoes, too.

“Can you find me a briefcase?”

“No problem. There’s a leather shop in the lobby.”

“Make it alligator skin. Remember. One hour.”

Thirty-five minutes later the clerk arrived carrying a cardboard box and an alligator briefcase. Chad took the box from the clerk and gave him a fat tip.

He stripped off his jeans and sweater and slipped into the suit. Salazar was heavier in the shoulders. He cut up strips of towel and used them as shoulder pads. A little lumpy but they’d have to do. Then he went back in front of the mirror, lowered his head and practiced Salazar’s menacing glower. Satisfied, he imitated Salazar’s purposeful walk on the way to the elevator and across the lobby to the entrance where he gave the door attendant a substantial tip and asked him to hail a limo.

Ten minutes later the limo dropped him off in front of the Auroch Industries tower. He had been there once before when Salazar had hired him. He remembered Salazar presiding in a long room decorated with photos of mining operations.

On the other side of the revolving door was a vast lobby, circular in shape, with highly polished marble walls and floors. At the center of the lobby, balanced on a platform of dark granite, was a perforated greenish-black hunk of copper ore as big as a car. According to a bronze plaque, the nugget was unearthed at an Auroch mine in Bolivia.

On his last visit to the building, a limo brought him to an underground garage. A private elevator whisked him to Salazar’s office. He guessed that Salazar rarely came in the front door. He hoped the novelty of seeing Auroch’s CEO in the flesh would bring down a veil of confusion he could exploit.

The uniformed security man standing next to the reception desk was the first to recognize him. His jaw dropped. As Chad strode directly toward the guard, he pulled out his cell phone and stuck it to his ear. Playing the role of the distracted executive, he gestured toward the bank of elevators.

In his best Salazar imitation, he said, “If you don’t mind, I’m in a hurry.”

The guard acted as if he’d been stuck with an electrical prod. “Of course, Mr. Salazar.”

He led the way to the last elevator in the row and used a key to unlock the doors. Chad stepped into the elevator and glanced at the name on the man’s badge.

“Thank you, Manuel.”

The guard grinned, most likely savoring the prospect of a pay raise and promotion, then reached in and pressed a button that closed the doors. The elevator was silent, but Chad could feel the G-force pressing against the soles of his shoes. The doors opened again and Chad stepped out into Salazar’s office suite. He walked briskly toward the door he remembered from his last visit, opened it, and went into the combination office and boardroom.

He stood there without speaking. Salazar sat at his desk, his massive head bent over paperwork. After a moment he looked up and furrowed his brow. Chad had to admire the man’s steely self-discipline. Salazar’s scowl got impossibly deeper, but he didn’t miss a beat.

“Is this some sort of joke?” he said.

“Only if you think it is, Mr. Salazar.”

Hearing a close approximation of his voice caught his attention. He stood up, came around the table and approached Chad, who tensed, expecting Salazar to get physical. But instead, he stuck his face into Chad’s, and said, “Leonidas?”

“Good call, Mr. Salazar,” he said in his natural voice.

Salazar turned and went back to his desk. He told Chad to take a seat. “I could have you killed, you know. One touch of my finger on a button will summon men who will take you away.”

“I understand that.”

“So why did you come here? Did you think I’d be amused by your antics?”

“No,” Chad said. “I came here because I needed work. And I wanted to remind you in the best way that I could, why you hired me in the first place. I’m good at getting into places where I haven’t been invited.” He glanced around at the mining mural. “Places like this.”

Salazar sat back in his chair and tented his fingers. Narrowing his eyes, he said, “You caused me a great deal of trouble with your incompetence.”

“I’ll admit it. I screwed up. I underestimated Hawkins. Nobody warned me about him. Next time he won’t be so lucky.”

“I have bigger fish to fry than Hawkins.” He paused in thought, then he smiled. “I may be able to use you for an operation where your shape-shifting talent will come in handy. “

“I’m up for anything, Mr. Salazar. When do I start?”

“About twenty-four hours from now. I’ll let you know the details as soon as I work them out. You have work to do before then. You’re going to have to do something about the eyes. They’re the wrong color, but contacts can fix that. And you’ll have to work on the voice. You’ve got the tone and the inflections, but not the delivery. A keen ear would notice the difference. That suit looks like it came off the rack at a flea market. I’ll have my tailor come up with something that fits.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I’ve never been accused of being vague or imprecise, Leonidas. And I don’t like repeating myself. But I’ll make an exception in this once instance. Yes, I am saying what you think I’m saying. I want you to be Viktor Salazar.”