The Relic Hunters

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Xavier Von Gothe looked upon news coverage of the Thessaloniki bus station ‘terrorist’ attack with deep satisfaction. Baltasar was free, untracked, and unscathed. All was well — the single hitch now the amount of time the journey was taking. Every moment was a pain in Xavier’s side.

Such a delicate journey, with the most fragile of relics, surrounded by devastation.

The media speculations continued. Xavier tuned them out, preferring to fix his thinking on the truths that only he knew. A race was still a race if conducted painstakingly. And this race was now well and truly begun. It reminded him of the ancient relic in question — the Statue of Zeus that had once stood at Olympia and witnessed the early Olympic Games. Once one of the Seven Wonders of the World, it had come under Illuminati control in the 1800s. In truth, it was a recruitment tool — one of many. To entice a wealthy man one needed something unattainable.

Was there anything more unattainable than an ancient wonder? Long thought destroyed? Every man had his vices but this…

May have undone us all, Xavier finished cynically.

But the rare moment of weakness passed quickly. Xavier took a moment to be surprised at himself. It was certainly past the time for another purification ritual. He wondered what fresh delight they may have down in the basement…

The phone rang. Xavier knew immediately who it was.

“Yes?”

“I am clear. The event has worked. All is well.”

“I am aware, my acolyte. The bus and the train, however, are also now impossible. Your papers are in order?”

He was referring to Baltasar’s ID in his own outdated way.

“Yes, Master. I have them right here.”

“Then proceed by car.” He knew he did not have to tell Baltasar this. The man was trained beyond the highest level. Everything he said to and told his acolyte was mere reassurance, simply a way of being there.

“I am sorry for the delay.”

Xavier smiled. “It cannot be helped.”

“And the team following me?”

“We are searching our records. The moment we have something useful I will contact you.”

“Thank you, Master.”

The line went dead. Xavier replaced the phone thoughtfully, reflecting on this new team and what might be their true objective. For certain, they were not Greeks. They appeared a mismatched group. But time would tell. His people were on it.

Of course, the appearance of unknown newcomers and the slow rate of transport now threw into light yet another of Xavier’s problems.

He walked over to the single picture window, studying far off vistas. A snow flurry was occurring on a distant mountain, such random fury unleashed with nothing to show for its efforts. The Illuminati he saw as the mountain, the herd as the wrathful snow.

Somebody at the Athens Archaeological Museum had forwarded the map to four different people before they and the computer system were rinsed clean. That meant four other people required visiting, and their computer systems sanitized with extreme prejudice.

The Hoods had already been dispatched. He switched his attention from the snow-scene to the enormous TV on the wall. He split the picture into four separate screens and watched each one in earnest.

The operation was nearing its end.