“The reason is simple. Over the centuries, many forces have sought the location of our treasure. Some of them were evil men, willing to kill us for our knowledge. Eventually, we opted to fight back. Blade against blade, blood against blood, all in the name of secrecy.”
“But you’re a monk. Doesn’t violence go against your religion?”
Nicolas grimaced. “Not if done for self-preservation. And that is what it was. We pursued those who pursued us, and struck them where they stood.”
“And the Spartans?”
Nicolas paused in thought. “Somebody struck us.”
“Any idea who?”
He shrugged as the color slowly drained from his face. “I was given no names, since my involvement with the Brotherhood was . . . fleeting. However, from what I have gathered, our treasure . . . has been the source of recent interest . . . from several collectors.” He paused to catch his breath. “Including some . . . from . . . your homeland.”
Dial stepped forward, concerned by the anguish on the monk’s face and his sudden shortness of breath. “Nicolas? What’s wrong? Are you all right?”
The monk wheezed. “I will be . . . soon.”
Dial rushed forward, worried that the monk was having a heart attack. He grabbed the wool blanket that was wrapped around the old man’s torso, and when he touched it, he realized it was damp. He didn’t know why until he ripped it off the monk.
Nicolas had a dagger in his hand and two large slashes through the femoral arteries in his thighs. For the past few minutes, he had slowly been bleeding to death while he calmly explained where he wanted to die.
By the time Dial noticed, there was nothing he could do to prevent it.
Everyone was stunned by the turn of events. All of them had been listening to Dial’s conversation, yet none of them had noticed the old man slowly dying in front of them.
His death-and his final message about the treasure being moved-was a setback they hadn’t expected.
“Now what?” Payne asked Jones and Allison.
Both of them shrugged, disheartened.
Payne pulled out his copy of the treasure map. “Why don’t you two take another look at the map? Maybe we missed something important.”
Jones shook his head. “The map worked fine. We found the cave right where it was supposed to be. But there’s nothing in here.”
“I know that, but-”
“Jon,” Jones argued, “think about it. If the Brotherhood moved the treasure in the last century, it was after Schliemann died. So his map wouldn’t show the new location.”
Payne nodded. “I realize that, but who’s to say when the monks moved it. What if they moved it before Schliemann died? Maybe his map led us here for a reason. Maybe there’s a secret clue that will point us to another location.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
“Hey,” Payne said, “I know you’re disappointed and all, but we just climbed a mountain to get here. We’re not going back down until you’ve looked around some more.”
Jones groaned in frustration. “Fine! I’ll look around the stupid cave, but if a giant boulder starts rolling at me from the ceiling, I swear to God I’ll-”
He stopped in mid-sentence and cocked his head to the side.
Payne stared at him, waiting for him to finish his rant. “You’ll what?”
Jones ignored the question. Deep in thought, he glanced around the cave, slowly considering everything about it. “This cave is kind of small, isn’t it?”
“It’s no Carlsbad Caverns, if that’s what you mean.”
“No,” Jones said as he shined his flashlight all around him. “I mean, the damn thing is really small. If they used to keep a huge treasure in here, where in the hell did they hide it?”
Payne paused. “That’s a very good point.”
“I mean, I doubt they just left it sitting out in the open. That wouldn’t make sense. Not if the Brotherhood was as careful as they seemed to be.”
Allison looked at the mouth of the cave. “What about the entrance? Could they have concealed it with rocks and branches?”
“That’s possible,” Jones conceded. “But unless they did it just right, it wouldn’t have looked natural. And if you’re trying to hide something, that’s a dead giveaway.”
Payne stared at his friend, who had the slightest hint of a smile. “Hold up. Do you know where the treasure is?”
Jones shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
Payne shined his light on Jones. There was a gleam in his eye that hadn’t been there a moment before-and it wasn’t a reflection of the flashlight. “You bastard! I can tell from your face that you know where it is.”
Jones laughed. “I’m not positive, but I do have a theory. Ironically, if I’m right about it, I just gave you a clue.”
“You gave us a clue?”
He grinned. “If you had been paying attention, you would’ve noticed it.”
“You gave me a clue?”
Dial, who had been listening from the rear of the cave, spoke up. “He said dead.”
Payne turned and looked at him. “Dead?”
Dial nodded. “He said dead giveaway. He’s talking about the skulls.”
Jones whistled, impressed. “Score one for Nick Dial! How did you figure that out?”
“It wasn’t anything that you said,” Dial assured him. “It was something that Nicolas said before he died. He claimed the Brotherhood brought the skulls up here to honor them. But that goes against everything that Marcus and I learned at Metéora. The monks don’t keep skulls to honor them. They keep the skulls to remind them how fragile life is.”
He glanced down at Nicolas, who was lying on the ground underneath the blood-soaked blanket. “One minute you’re here, and the next you’re gone.”
“Okay,” Payne said. “I get that. But what does that have to do with the treasure?”
Dial continued. “Nicolas didn’t come up here to die. He came here to protect the treasure. And the only way he could do that was by convincing us that the Brotherhood had moved it somewhere else. Then he killed himself before we could ask him any more questions.”
“You seem pretty sure of that.”
Dial shrugged. “He’s lied to me before. I started to recognize his patterns.”
Allison asked, “So what does that mean? They didn’t move the treasure?”
Dial shook his head. “They didn’t have time. The Spartans killed them before they could.”
75
Payne studied the large pile of skulls stacked haphazardly against the wall. There were hundreds of them, several centuries’ worth of dead monks who had sworn to guard an ancient treasure. If his friends were correct, the monks still protected it-even in death.
“Explain this to me again,” he said to Jones. “You think the treasure is under there?”
“Not the treasure itself. But I think the skulls are hiding something. A fissure or a passageway.”
Payne smirked at his friend. “A minute ago you were making fun of me when I said there might be a clue somewhere in the cave. Now you’re telling me there’s a secret passageway?”
Jones nodded his head. “Yep. That’s what I’m saying.”
“That sounds kind of crazy.”
Andropoulos cleared his throat. “Actually, sir, it’s not that crazy. Director Dial and I found a secret tunnel at Metéora. It was hidden behind a large tapestry in the monks’ barracks.”
Payne glanced at him. “You found a tunnel? What was inside?”
“Stairs and an underground vault with several carved shelves and a fancy stone altar, but whatever had been stored in there had been moved long ago.”