The Vault of Poseidon

CHAPTER THREE

The snows of winter were early in Switzerland this year, and roared through the valley below. Hugo Zaugg wondered pensively back and forth on the thick white carpet of his study. Ever since he was alerted to this latest discovery his mind had touched upon nothing else. It was amazing what tracking keywords on certain email accounts could yield.

Most alarming to him was how to keep such a thing secret from the world. His father had done it for forty years, and he had diligently continued in his footsteps. That was the business he was in, after all.

His father had done it in Greece during the war, and it was thanks to Major Otto Zaugg’s archaeological work in the Ionian Sea that his son Hugo had known the legend was real. Now it looked like he was about to finish what his father had started, and it was all thanks to Richard Eden’s hard work.

Far below in the valley, the town lights came on one by one as darkness approached and the storm built in power. With Christmas on the horizon the streets were festooned with fairy lights and bunting.

Sion was an expensive place to live — one of the most expensive in Switzerland, but its appeal was minimal to the elderly billionaire as he went about his life’s work. The closest he had come to the streets below was the occasional time when his private helicopter flew over it en route to his mansion’s helipad.

He swivelled his telescope and watched a young couple struggling against the wind to get back to their apartment from a car which was parked in the snowy street outside. Zaugg studied their progress as he might watch a line of ants marching along a garden path. Sometimes life bored him.

But not tonight.

Zaugg turned to face his team. He was a short man, in an expensive grey suit with a navy blue tie and silk polka dot pocket square emerging somewhat flamboyantly from his breast pocket. He had a smooth, shaved head and a salt and pepper goatee beard trimmed to perfection. He smiled at them coldly.

His team of personal assistants and business associates watched him in silence for a long time before one of them spoke, fearful of Zaugg’s response.

“It was a mistake letting that woman get away,” the man said in French. “Who knows how much she told Eden before she was silenced? If this ever gets out the world as we know it will be over. Yet perhaps Eden doesn’t know what he has.”

“You think Sir Richard Eden doesn’t realize what was almost in his grasp?” Zaugg said, still looking through the window. He was speaking in French. “He spent two years and five million dollars funding that excavation. He knows what he has.”

“But we have the only translation,” said another man in German, excitedly. It was Dietmar Grobel, Zaugg’s number two. “How it will enlighten us! It is so precious.”

“Indeed,” Zaugg purred, this time in German. Yes, the original Ionian Texts and their translation were precious, but nowhere near as precious as what they would lead him to, he thought.

He considered Professor Fleetwood’s full translation in the context of the documents handed to him by his father. They whispered to him from the deep past: Those Who Seek His Power, Will Find It Buried In His Kingdom. He smiled and rolled the words over his tongue: Only Then Shall Divine Illumination Be Granted…

Zaugg closed his eyes. Poseidon and Amphitrite would lead him to their ultimate power, and Sir Richard Eden and his ragtag army of nobodies could not stop him.

“Their power will be mine,” he said. “It is merely a case of locating the vase in question and then we shall be given the next step in our long quest.”

“A glorious moment in history, sir,” Grobel said.

“But we must neutralize the Eden Group,” said the woman.

“Leave that to me,” Zaugg said in a whisper.

“But we must do it now…”

“I said leave it to me,” Zaugg repeated, his tone indicating that was the end of the matter.

“Are you sure you can keep something of this magnitude quiet?” said a thin man, swallowing anxiously at the end of his sentence. “Surely not even someone as powerful as you could keep something like this secret. What if Eden leaks it? If we hand everything over to the United Nations, perhaps…”

“What you say is madness!” said the woman.

Zaugg stopped his pacing and began to study the pattern of the snowfall as it raced past his enormous window wall. More snowflakes than stars in the universe, he thought. “The world is not ready for this and neither is Eden. Only I have what it takes to control such a power.”

“I concur,” said Grobel. “And we have invested too much for this to become public. We will lose everything. Eden will not reveal anything to the public. He understands its significance.”

“Herr Grobel is right,” continued the woman. “If this becomes public knowledge everything we aspire to will be in grave jeopardy.”

Zaugg walked to the leather swivel chair behind his expansive mahogany desk and gently sat down. He turned slowly once again to face his team.

They were a good lineup — the best that money could buy — archaeologists, geologists, historians, and experts in folklore and mythology. They knew what they were talking about, and they also knew the value of keeping him happy. Zaugg happened to agree with the majority opinion in the room — the world was not ready for such a find, the import of which would be truly earth-shattering if he got his way.

But it was not without precedent.

It was true that he already had one piece of the puzzle — discovered by his father in Greece during the war which he then smuggled into Switzerland under a false identity when the Allies occupied Germany.

Without that evidence he would never have believed the legend. But without the Ionian Texts it revealed nothing. The texts, recently found by Sir Richard Eden, his great rival, had proven without a doubt that the legend was real and that the vault was true and could be located.

Zaugg had never doubted. And others were equally keen to find the truth. There were people in the world beside him who dedicated their lives to finding the truth. There had even been attempts to steal the document handed down to him by his father, but the punishment he meted out to the thieves was not in exact alignment with the Swiss judicial code.

But now the Ionian Texts were found and translated, he would be able to locate the vault of Poseidon and take control of the ultimate power on earth.

“So what shall we do, Herr Zaugg?” asked the woman. “Are you prepared to take responsibility for what this discovery will do to the world, or are you going to guard it for more enlightened generations?”

“I am confident Richard Eden will not release the details of his discovery to the press and the matter will not be spoken of again. I trust you know me well enough by now to know how reckless it would be to defy me. The world will know of this soon enough and at a time of my choosing.”

A murmur of concern rippled around the warm room, but another withering look from Zaugg brought about an immediate change of heart.

“This is the right choice,” said the historian.

“I concur,” said the geologist.

“I still think the world should be told now,” said the archaeologist. “This changes everything! If the legends turn out to be true — and in the light of this discovery I see no further reason to doubt them — we’re talking about something very dangerous indeed — the whole of human history will be rewritten. We are playing with fire.”

“You think I have made the wrong decision?” Zaugg said, suddenly darkly serious.

The archaeologist fell silent for a moment. He looked at the carpet, and then spoke up. “Of course not, sir. It’s just that…”

“Excellent,” snapped Zaugg. “Then we are all agreed. A discovery like this is too explosive for the average man or woman on the street. They are occupied with the mundane, with the humdrum. We must not burden them with such a heavy load. This is why Sir Richard Eden will not go to his superiors about this — that really would be suicide — or should I say genocide?”

A low rumble of grim, forced laughter emanated from the small group.

Zaugg got up from his chair and walked silently to the window wall. It was almost totally dark now, and as he stared through the glass he no longer saw the little town below his mountain estate, but his own reflection — old, proud, scared.

“The legend says they were buried together…” he said quietly. His voice was thinner now, almost a whisper, as if his mind was drifting to some other place where he would much rather be. “If the Ionian Texts give us what I expect them to, then we will soon be in possesson of the vault of Poseidon and its terrifying secrets.” He sighed and closed his eyes. He raised his wrinkled hands and placed them gently on the glass in front of him. “We will change the course of the entire world… and my destiny.”

He breathed in deeply and let the air out in a slow, restful exhalation. He was calm again, happy, expectant. No, the world was not ready for such a thing, but he was.