The Minoan Cipher

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

Salazar called Chad, “Be outside your hotel in thirty minutes.”

Chad had been waiting for the call, and was already dressed in a black sweatshirt, sweatpants and running shoes. Loose and nondescript. Standard hit man gear. Good for hiding weapons and confusing eye witnesses.

He tucked a short-barreled pistol into a sock holster. He was standing on the curb when the black Mercedes SUV pulled up in front of him. Salazar rolled down the window and beckoned from the front passenger seat for him to get in.

The two bulky men in the back seat slid over to make room. His seatmates and the driver had stuffed themselves into black running outfits that looked like they’d come off the rack at Assassins “R” Us. Baseball caps were pulled down over aviator sunglasses. Their heads seemed to sit on their shoulders without benefit of a neck. Salazar was dressed the same way.

Salazar introduced Chad as the replacement member of the team. There were grunted responses and a couple of hard stares.

The SUV pulled away from the curb, headed out of the city and after a short drive, left the highway and traveled on back roads. The Mercedes turned onto a driveway marked Private and plunged into thick woods. The vehicle stopped in front of a log house at the end of the road. Chad and the other men got out of the SUV and followed Salazar into the cabin to a room that had a TV monitor filling an entire wall.

Salazar went over to a table that held an object covered with a sheet. He told everyone to take a seat and clicked the remote control of a Power Point projector. Chad almost fell out of his chair with surprise. He was looking at a photo of the castle he had seen from the helicopter.

Salazar said, “This castle is called Castillo de Cuernos. It was built by my family, but for five hundred years it has been under the control of a small group. Our goal is to take it back. Bruno will fill you in on the operational plan.”

Salazar sat down and Bruno got up and flicked on a laser pointer. He placed the red dot on an entrance to the castle.

“The castle is defended by two sets of walls and has only one land entrance. All Middle Ages stuff. It’s also protected by sensors, inside and out, that detect intruders and respond accordingly. Signs and recorded messages warn trespassers that they will be met with lethal force. Guns mounted on top of the walls are programmed to fire on anyone in the kill zone. Any air incursion will be met by a drone armed with missiles.”

That explained the warm reception when the tourist helicopter got too close.

“Okay. I’m impressed. How do we get past the air defenses?”

“The defenses can be temporarily disabled allowing visitors to land on a helipad within the castle walls. About a dozen guys will be in the courtyard. All top guns for hire. But we go in with Mr. Salazar, who is there by my invitation. He’s allowed four bodyguards. Once we are admitted past the first line of walls we will make the switch.”

“I don’t get you. What switch is that?”

“I’ve told Bruno and his men about your unique shape-shifting talents,” Salazar said.

“Don’t know if I’d call it shape-shifting, Mr. Salazar. I’m pretty good with make-up.”

“Don’t be modest. You were more than good when you borrowed my face and walked past security into my office. I want you to impersonate me again after we pass through the second wall enclosure.”

Bruno clicked the remote control. The castle photo vanished to be replaced by a picture of an odd-looking structure that had two towers flanking a taller one.

Chad shook his head. “Looks like something on the Strip in Vegas.”

Salazar said, “We’ll make the switch in this building. We’ll all be wearing face masks, so the transition should be simple. There’s another level below this one, and that’s where the ceremony will be.”

“What sort of ceremony, Mr. Salazar?”

“It’s a religious ceremony. It will be attended by a dozen or so priestesses and two bodyguards. Your role is a minor one.” He removed the cloth covering the object on the table, revealing the bull’s head; rhyton. “You will carry this to an altar in the ceremonial sanctuary.”

“That’s it?”

“Not quite. You’ll be given a small remote device. You will place the rhyton on the altar. Then you will step back; when the ceremony begins you will press the remote button which will send a signal to us. While all attention is on the ceremony we will disarm the bodyguards and take control of the sanctuary.”

“Getting past your office security guard was one thing. Do you really think we can pull off an identity swap?”

“I don’t just think it. I know it. The light inside the sanctuary will be dim. You will be wearing a costume that will disguise you. You won’t have to worry about opposition. Only women and chosen male attendants are allowed in the sanctuary for the ceremony.”

Stretching his lips in a slop-sided grin, Chad said, “How’d you get so lucky?”

“My special status allows me to participate in the ceremony,” Salazar said. “That’s all you have to know.”

“Okay. When does this go down?”

Salazar said, “I can’t give you an exact time, but expect to get a call within the next twenty-four hours. You must be ready to move in disguise on a moment’s notice.”

The ride back to the hotel was uneventful. Chad got out of the SUV and watched until the taillights disappeared around a corner. He went back to his room and poured a tall glass of whiskey. He sat in a chair and sipped from his glass.

Salazar had seemed irritated when asked for details. There was also an edge to that silky smooth voice when Chad asked how he had access to the women-only party in the sanctuary.

The question popped back into his mind. Why would Salazar be allowed entrance into a female ceremony? The answer was so far-fetched he pushed it aside, but the thought kept nudging him like a hungry puppy. All the signs were there. The feminine flesh around the cheeks and mouth. The lack of any facial hair; not even a whisker. The heavy physique of someone who worked hard to keep the pounds off.

He clicked on his cell phone and after a short Google search found some photographs whose subjects could have been Salazar’s brothers. Eunuchs. Young men had once been castrated to give them the amazing singing voices that echoed off the walls of great cathedrals. Salazar had been modified early in his life not to change his voice, but to allow him to take part in a ceremony that excluded males. He poured himself another half glass and slugged it down. For a second, he entertained a fleeting sympathy for Salazar at the barbaric operation that had turned him into a freak. It quickly passed, to be replaced by a cold appraisal. It didn’t make any difference in his hatred, but at least he knew now why Salazar was so damned bad-tempered.