The Minoan Cipher

CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT

Chad tried to fight off the drug that had dug its talons into his brain, but the hallucinatory effect was powerful. Luckily, it was short-lived. The dancing flowers that had whirled around him transformed back into the hard-faced priestesses, although their colorful robes still glowed as if they were on fire.

The flutes and the lyres started up again. The priestesses began to chant in the weird language. The music was less frenzied, more like a funeral dirge, which didn’t make Chad feel any better.

The procession filed through the open door and into a great hall. Chad gripped the bull’s head close to his chest as if it could ward off the evil that seemed to surround him. The chant echoed off the ceilings and walls of the vast room. His eyes darted right and left, taking in the colonnades of red columns that ran along the walls. He stored the layout in his brain so he wouldn’t have to think about it when it was time to make his move.

The parade marched further into the room, passing between the biers. The procession continued to the far end of the hall and stopped in front of an altar made of black basalt. Rising from the altar was a horn-shaped sculpture. Framed by the horns was a mummified body that sat in a throne-like chair. On either side of the mummy was a stone pillar with a bronze-bladed double axe sticking out of it.

Chad only glanced at the hideous dead face before his eye was drawn to the figure lying on the altar itself. Kalliste was bound hand and foot, like a piece of meat ready to be carved up. Chad knew exactly who was going to do the carving; the tall, glassy-eyed woman in the flounced skirt who stood off to the side of the altar holding a long-bladed bronze dagger in her hand. She was staring at him.

The music had stopped. Everyone seemed to be expecting something. He saw the woman wrinkle her brow and thought maybe she had seen through his disguise. He realized his behavior was raising suspicion. He snapped out of his daze. Recalling Salazar’s instructions, he placed the rhyton next to Kalliste’s head, then stepped aside. The woman smiled and turned to address the others in the procession. She spoke in the unknown language. He didn’t understand a word, but judging from the glittering eyes of the priestesses and the evil grins of the dog-handlers something bad was about to go down.

He glanced at the unconscious form on the altar. He couldn’t let these creeps hurt Kalliste. Screw Salazar. He reached into the pocket. His fingers found the remote control, gave the knob a twist with his thumb and forefinger, and he waited for the right moment to press the button three times.