Before he could reply, she kissed him on the cheek and slid open the suite’s heavy glass doors. Stepping back inside the room, a sea of expectant faces turned to her. She glanced back at Hawke. “Oh, get inside, ya stupid eejit.”
Back to business, the mission could be going better. The rescue of Lexi Zhang from the heart of the Chinese military-industrial complex had rapidly turned from covert ingress into farce and back out the other side into the realms of serious diplomatic scandal. The British and American ambassadors in Beijing had both been summoned to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to explain themselves and rumors of sanctions were swirling in the loftier circles of international government.
South Africa had gone better. They had retrieved the Sword of Fire and had the pleasure of annihilating one of Dirk Kruger’s major business ventures but it wasn’t all champagne and strawberries. The man himself, along with his business partner Mr Blankov and a small number of his men including Venter were still alive and knew about the Shield of Pridwen. Now they had to watch not only for the surviving member of the Zodiacs, Tiger and the Athanatoi, but a band of former South African commandos.
One of Eden’s diplomatic contacts in Westminster, Simon Underhill, could probably see off the Chinese and being on first-names terms with the sitting President of the United States would also help grease the wheels as well, but things were still dangerous.
On the other hand, they knew from the deciphered sword symbols that they were looking for its matching shield and only then would they have all the information they needed to locate the King’s Tomb.
“Early start everyone,” Hawke said.
Reaper stubbed out his cigarette. “Oui, and I must call my family in France.”
“And I must go and find some more ceegarettes,” Scarlet said in a French accent.
They split up and returned to their rooms, all except Hawke and Lea. She looked at him with a wicked sparkle in her eyes. “So, what number’s your room then?”
“Well, I…”
“You what?”
“I was hoping to stay in here tonight, with you.”
“That is hopeful, what with considering…
They embraced and kissed and as they fell onto the bed, Hawke reached out and killed the lights.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The next day, Athens was like a dream. Blazing sun, blue sky and the streets were busy and hot. Cars and mopeds sped through the arteries of the city like blood keeping the entire place thriving and energized. On the sidewalks outside cafés people argued and shared jokes and laughed and haggled. Tourists sauntered around snapping pictures on their phones and cameras. Hawke envied them, wishing he could kick back with a coffee and enjoy the city instead of fighting through whatever the day had in store for him and the rest of his team.
The Plaka district was heaving with activity and the air was thick with fumes from the heavy traffic. It mingled with the hot sunshine and exotic aromas drifting out of the restaurants, reminding Hawke that life went on and one day they might be able to have one of their own, to join the human race again and enjoy the simple pleasures on offer in a place like this.
Despite the pressures, the team seemed to be on good form. Kim and Camacho were talking about old times, Scarlet and Lexi were teasing Ryan about his latest tattoo and Lea and Devlin were sharing a joke. He had learned his lesson in that department and believed Lea when she had told him she loved him. He glanced at his watch, looked up at the café and sighed. “What the hell is he doing?”
Talk of the Devil, Hawke thought. Reaper stepped out of the nearby café with a Greek coffee and a lit rolled-up cigarette hanging off his lower lip. He winced when he sipped at the strong, black brew and then took a long drag on the cigarette. “I’m not alive until I do this,” he said, blinking hard in the daylight.
The team crossed the busy road at the lights and continued on their way to the National Archaeological Museum. Like the ancient city all around it, the impressive neoclassical building was an important part of ECHO’s world.
Inside, they fanned out and systematically searched through the ancient artefacts and relics until they found what they were looking for. Except, they never did. Hawke expanded the search to include objects from other cultures much further afield than what seemed likely, but still they came up with nothing.
He took a moment out, watching the team as they checked and double-checked for the shield. The idea that they had come this far only to fail in this way was totally unacceptable. Ryan had assured him that the shield described by Julius before his death was in this museum and he knew better than to doubt the young hacker. His mind was like a labyrinth of esoteria and facts and that combined with his eidetic memory made arguing with him a mistake.
Usually.
But what if this time he had screwed up? There was no sign of a shield matching the description given by Julius in the NAM website, after all. They had travelled all the way here from Pretoria purely on Ryan’s hunch, a faded memory he claimed he had about seeing the shield here.
Flying here from South Africa had cost them a lot of time and resources. Keeping a Gulfstream in the air for that many hours wasn’t cheap, either. To think the whole thing had been a mistake wasn’t a thought he wanted to dwell on. But if Ryan had cocked up, it would give Scarlet at least another year’s worth of material to mock him with.
There was always that.
Ryan walked over to him, hands in pockets and a frown on his face. “I’m sure it was here. I know I saw it in a guidebook once.”
“Heads up,” Lea said. “Curator’s on the deck.”
The curator was a small man with diffused, thinning hair stretched over a tanned scalp in an impressive combover. He was wearing a neat, pale brown suit and polished shoes and fidgeted when he moved. Under his nose was a thick, black waxed moustache which curled up at the end and instantly reminded Hawke of Poirot. Looking across at Lea, he saw she had made the same observation. She stifled a chuckle and had to turn away from him to stop laughing.
After introducing himself as Panos Theodorakis, he said, “Can I help you, please?”
“I hope so,” Ryan said, describing the shield. “Do you have that here?”
“I’m impressed you are even aware of such an artefact,” he said. “The Shield of Pridwen has not been on display since 1941 and has never been included on our website. Its image was included in some of the earlier museum guidebooks printed before the war, but these were not very high-quality images and as far as I know there are very few of these publications left in print and they were only ever printed in Greek. Do you have one of these guides?”
Ryan shook his head.
“Then you must have an exceptional memory.”
“He does,” Lea said. “It’s actually quite terrifying, especially when you get into an argument with him. It’s like arguing with a computer database of uncomfortable facts.”
“You said that the shield hasn’t been on display since 1941,” Hawke said.
“That’s correct. As you may know, when the front finally fell and the Nazis invaded my country, we moved as many of our most precious artefacts to hiding places around Greece to stop the invaders getting their hands on them.”
“We did the same,” Ryan said. “Much of the contents of British museums and art galleries were hidden in Welsh mines and caves.”
“Exactly, so,” Theodorakis said. “We did what we had to do to stop those monsters plundering the riches of our lands. You used what you had — the mines and caves of Wales — and we used what we had. We moved many of our priceless relics to places such as the ancient tombs at Delphi on the north coast of the Gulf of Corinth. Other sites included the caves beneath the Acropolis or right here.”