“Yes?”
Caitlyn watched him as the others all checked their perimeter. Surveillance was everything now — it would keep them alive. Nobody trusted that even the sacrosanct piazza would blunt Riley’s strike when it happened.
Crouch was silent, listening, but Caitlyn saw a world of hurt enter his eyes the second before he squeezed them tightly closed. His head fell. She knew something was terribly wrong.
She stepped forward. “Michael?”
Crouch whispered something into the handset. A stiff breeze, laced with the last vestiges of the shower, swept Caitlyn’s hair aside. A darkness fell over Michael Crouch as the sun finally split the heavens that peered down upon the basilica.
“Michael?” she repeated. Alicia turned toward her, noting the urgent tone of her voice.
Crouch spoke again, his voice too low to understand. It didn’t happen often, but when Caitlyn saw the fight go out of him in such a way it disturbed her on deeper level than she cared to admit.
He saved me. Gave me a second chance. Caitlyn had been in Hell when Crouch recruited her, wallowing, failing, drowning in grief. The subsequent weeks and months had helped her deal with the revelations surrounding her mother and father, but the horror of it all still clung and lurked like toxic shadows.
Alicia tapped her on the shoulder. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. He just answered his cell—”
Crouch ended his call, eyes still closed, face as tight as a photo finish. When he did finally look at them he did so under an immense strain.
“That was Interpol. The Istanbul police are reporting finding a body.” He gripped the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “One of the city’s esteemed archaeologists. Seems he was tortured for information and then killed.”
Alicia stepped forward immediately. “Naz? You’re saying…” she tailed off, seeing the same truth that Caitlyn saw in Crouch’s chaotic gaze.
“I’m responsible,” Crouch said. “I brought him into this. I left him alone, thinking everything would just move on—”
“How could you know Riley would go after him?” Healey asked. “You didn’t kill him—”
“It wasn’t Riley,” Crouch said.
Now Alicia grunted. “Then who? Kenzie. Not Kenzie—”
“Police report CCTV cameras show her in the vicinity of the murder around the right time.”
“Shit, did we underestimate her.” It was a statement of fact.
“Yes, we did.” Crouch let out a long breath. “She’s as psychotic as bloody Riley and now she also knows where we were headed.”
Russo continued to survey the area. “She ain’t here yet, boss.”
Caitlyn gestured toward the sheer amount of people crowded into the square. “You can’t know that for sure.”
Russo shrugged, a rock face convulsing.
Alicia pointed toward the basilica. “Keep moving. Standing in one place for too long is what gets you killed. Look, the Horses are right there, right in front of us. Bronze copies of the ones Lysippos sculpted. That’s our link. Dandolo brought them here at the same time he brought the Hercules. So where is it?”
Her words took a moment to impinge upon Crouch, but when they did he abruptly nodded. “You’re right, Myles. We should get inside St. Marks.”
He shoved past them all, now shouldering another burden. Alicia strode after him and Healey beckoned to Caitlyn.
“Hurry. We shouldn’t be separated.”
Russo appeared to be inspecting every face and feature within their vicinity. “They could be anywhere,” he finally admitted. “And they won’t hesitate. C’mon, guys. Get a bloody shift on.”
Once inside, the interior of St. Mark’s Basilica hit them like a warm blanket of gold. The shining yellow domes, the walls, the mosaics, all spoke of beauty, priceless art and wealth. It was laid out in the shape of a Greek cross, each arm divided into three naves with a dome of its own in addition to the main dome above the crossing.
Caitlyn was immediately stunned by the size of the place. “Wow, it’s huge. How on earth do we even start a search?”
“We simply search,” Crouch snapped. “Did you think it was going to be easy? Look for clues. For anything relating to what we know. To mosaics, murals, stained glass windows. To the Doge of the thirteenth century. To the horses. To Hercules. Lysippos, even. And Alexander. Use your bloody brain.”
Caitlyn drew back as their boss stalked on ahead. Alicia kept pace for a moment. “Leave him be. Michael’s been a leader longer than you’ve been mature. And do you know what a good leader’s worst nightmare is?”
“Losing the respect of their people?” Caitlyn said sharply.
“No. But close. It’s losing their people. Through no fault of his own Crouch lost the Ninth Division. Or did you truly think all this treasure hunt business was purely for fun?”
“You’re saying he’s using it to cope?”
Alicia stopped at the end of a long row of chairs. “Partially, yes. Whatever he says to the contrary. There’s much more to him than meets the eye.”
Caitlyn caught a tone of warning within Alicia’s words and studied her more closely. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He’s deep. Deeper than even I knew. I’m not entirely sure yet but—” the Englishwoman clammed up, surprise in her eyes showing she probably hadn’t even meant to say that much. Caitlyn knew she would get no more out of Alicia Myles.
“Well, keep me informed.”
“Like an older car salesman. I always do when it suits me to.”
Caitlyn slowed, conscious that she’d already crossed a good proportion of the lower register and taken in very little. Something struck her that had seemed a little odd when Crouch proposed it. Why would this church have any references to Hercules?
Unless…
It was an oddity, for sure, and one that required investigation. If St. Mark’s Basilica bore any indications of Hercules it may well be a sign, a lead. Quickly, she sat down on one of the chairs and found her Kindle Fire, logging into a web browser. Healey stood over her, reminding her of the need for protection.
In here?
Terrorists, murderers and other fanatical or psychopathic killers would not stand on ceremony. Caitlyn watched Crouch passing between rows of pillars, studying the inlaid paving at his feet. Russo and Alicia studied a wall showing apostles, angels, a winged lion and St. Mark himself. Caitlyn thought hard. They already knew that at least one major work of Lysippos adorned this so-called cathedral church, but could there be any more?
The Four Tetrarchs statue stood inside, also robbed from Constantinople, as did many other objects. None of them helped. Most weren’t even sculptures, but she reminded herself not to think in such a linear way. Clues might come in all shapes and sizes.
As Caitlyn tapped away, Alicia and Russo wandered the aisles, threading in and out of the great columns and always watching. Above, the other levels overlooked them and made it harder to guarantee safety, but the pair made the Gold Team as secure as they could. Crouch stood apart, wrestling with his idea that a clue must exist inside the basilica as much as the latest revelation about Naz’s death. Their boss checked every statue, every mosaic, and came up with nothing.
More than an hour passed, the minutes ticking away. It was Caitlyn who finally made a breakthrough.
Studying page after page of information and retaining as much as she was able, she came across an article that amazed her. On reading she rose and waved to the entire crew, ignoring Crouch’s look of anger that clearly shouted: Discretion!
“I’ve found something,” she said, unable to keep a note of excitement out of her voice. “This façade,” she pointed, “is split into two orders, all overlooked by the copy of the quadriga of St. Mark. The Horses. Now listen—‘the thirteenth century marble facing…’ ” she clearly emphasized the date. “ ‘… includes several sculpted Byzantine slabs. Two of them are portrayals of the Labors of Hercules. Hercules with the Boar of Erymanthus from the fifth century and another from the thirteenth century’.” She paused, staring at Crouch.