Alicia Myles 2 - Crusader's Gold Page 2

  Heads were swiveling toward him, none larger or harder than Russo’s. The movement was as deliberate and slow as an ancient stone statue coming to life.

  “They found something under those docks, Michael. Something astounding.”

  “How astounding?”

  “It will rewrite parts of history.”

  “Bloody hell. Now you’ve piqued my interest. But how can it be lost, and can’t you tell me more?”

  “Just remember your history around 1200 AD. Alexandria being attacked and the Hippodrome of Constantinople. The Fourth Crusade and the Doge of Venice. The best known wonder that he stole. And get on that plane.”

  Crouch’s head was a swirling constellation of memories and suppositions. How on earth could an ancient, newly found dock in Istanbul be connected to an attack on Alexandria—of which there had been countless throughout history—and then the old Hippodrome? Where did that fit with the crusaders? And what the hell did the Doge steal that Sadler seemed to think was so famous?

  “All right, Rolland. I’ll call you when we’re in the air.”

  Crouch glanced across at his crew. “Hope you weren’t planning on finishing those meals, guys. We have a new treasure to seek out.”

  Russo sighed at the stack of pancakes before him. Caitlyn smiled. “When you say new—do you really mean old?”

  “I guess I do.”

  “And you mentioned contacting Alicia,” Russo said warily. “Does that mean we’re actually working with Her Craziness again? ‘Cause I gotta say, the last few weeks have been comparatively sane.”

  “Are you saying she’s irrational? I seem to remember thinking you worked well together in the end.”

  “I’m not convinced she’s a leader.”

  Crouch was surprised but not unhappy to see such a verbose Russo. The man-mountain was usually as quiet as his description made him sound.

  “I think she’s about to surprise you. Surprise everyone, actually. It’s been a long time coming, but that girl is about to have a revelation.”

  Russo hung his head. “Shit. So long as I’m not on the receiving end.”

  “Somebody will be. You can be sure of that.”

  Russo nodded at his dripping pancakes. “I know.”

  Crouch stared out the window into a bright, fresh dawn. “Destiny awaits, my friends. I must admit, things have been a little quiet since we rounded off the Aztec quest. Are you ready to taste the adventure again?”

  Healey’s young, fresh face split into a wide grin. “Always!”

  Crouch headed for the door. “Then follow me.”

  Russo’s grumble followed him out toward the parking lot. “Whoa, you forgot to pay. Oh, bollocks . . .”

  TWO

  Alicia Myles shifted her legs in an attempt to iron out the cramps, feeling the pinch of economy class air travel. She had never understood why the goons who designed airplanes didn’t make them a few feet wider instead of barely wide enough to fit ten across. Every passenger in the world would surely pay an extra few dollars to offset the extra cost, so the airlines would soon earn their money back. Everyone’s happy. Maybe it was all down to the money men, the string-pullers, the ones who always travelled first class.

  Ahhhh . . .

  Trying to rein in her bitter outlook, Alicia found her thoughts snapping back to more recent events, but that wouldn’t do. Shit, that wouldn’t do at all. Her latest exhausting escapade had involved returning to the SPEAR team for a few weeks, saving Mai Kitano’s ass and searching out a lost kingdom. She had also gotten to dress up like Jennifer Lawrence at an X-Men premiere. Great for an hour or two, she thought. But it’s nothing but bollocks in the real schemes of honest life. I couldn’t do that more than once. Maybe twice.

  Then she remembered how it all ended. The dark alleyway. The lifeless body of their great friend and fellow soldier, and all the warriors seated at his side, sharing their final thoughts and the profound, silent night with him before the last moment was lost to eternity.

  Water filled her eyes.

  Perhaps it was the airplane’s air conditioning, the recirc system not functioning properly. Alicia fought it off by focusing on where she was going and what might happen next. The Kindle HD on her lap was set to ‘airplane’ mode and she’d just received a message through the plane’s Wi-Fi from her boss, Michael Crouch.

  ‘Call as soon as you can. New mission in Istanbul. Meet you there?’

  Alicia felt a small rush of happiness for the first time in days. A new mission was exactly what she needed right now and yes, the bruises, cuts and sprains from her last battle might not have healed yet, but the mental wounds would never heal. Best to lay them behind her. Best to move on. Flesh would take care of itself. The mind—that was a far larger problem, one she’d been struggling with for the best part of her life.

  She thought about where she was headed. And where was that? Oh yeah . . . anywhere. Alicia had left Hong Kong, her soldier family, her dead colleague and his upcoming funeral. She had left Matt Drake, the only man she believed might one day give her world and her life some kind of stability as he had before.

  Leave the heartache behind, and find the horizon. What works today and worked yesterday will always work tomorrow.

  Except, when it broke down.

  Alicia shrugged it off for now, unhappy living with her own thoughts in her own head. The last thing she needed to hear was counsel from Alicia Myles. Focusing, she recalled that the plane was headed to the Southern US, which was where Crouch and his team had been. She had been planning a surprise visit; secretly hoping to catch Russo out and see his crestfallen face which she knew concealed a growing mutual respect. Now . . . she could land as planned and be on the next flight out. Maybe arriving not too far behind them.

  Quickly she typed a message and hit send: Landing in the US in one hour. Will advise time of arrival in Turkey.

  As she sat back, fixing her headphones to her ears and cranking the music up, she found her spirits lifted a little and hoped fervently that this was going to be one of those action-packed rollercoaster rides where the hits kept on coming, the treasure hunt never let up, and the enemies at least tried to put up a fight. The traumas in her head needed an outlet. Yes, she was ready to explode and even the mountain-like Russo would find it hard to withstand her eruption.

  Here’s to the adventure, she thought. Never may it end.

  THREE

  Crouch didn’t relax until his team were on a plane and he’d heard from Alicia. A solid hour into their flight to Istanbul he called Sadler back.

  “All right, Rolland. We’re en route and ready to get to work.”

  “Good, good. Excellent job, Michael. As I said we’re on the clock. Now, as I explained, many learned archaeologists are currently working night and day to excavate and explore the old docks. Imagine what secrets might be found there. Old crusader ships laden with gold. Spoils of war. Vestiges of medieval history. But even more. Constantinople’s docks were international, of course, one of the busiest in those times. And Constantinople, with its infamous Hippodrome, its commerce and wealth and notoriety, not to mention one of history’s greatest and largest churches—the Hagia Sophia—was the place to go. Ships from every part of the world docked there.”

  “And in particular a ship from Alexandria?” Crouch fathomed quickly.

  Sadler laughed. “Of course. Are you all listening?”

  Crouch looked around. Russo and Healey were busy picking through the airplane food with varying expressions of disgust. Caitlyn was looking introspective, perhaps dwelling on those events that had led her to this point in life. Crouch accepted that her input would be invaluable, but knew he’d hate himself if he interrupted her now.

  “All as it should be,” he said. “Carry on.”

  “So, after Rhacotis was renamed Alexandria by Alexander the Great in roughly 331 BCE there followed the opening of the library and the lighthouse and then the besieging and the conquering and rebuilding from the likes of none less than
Augustus, Julius Caesar and Hadrian. It suffered tsunamis, Persians, Byzantines and earthquakes. What stands today is built on tons of ruins. Imagine the constant peril of the treasures that have resided there. Imagine the dilemmas presented to those who ruled. Many times, it seems during those years, Alexandria’s most important treasures were shipped out.”

  Crouch took a long drink from a bottle of water. “Perfectly understandable. With Alexandria’s turbulent history I’d certainly want my valuables transported to a more stable location.”

  Sadler’s voice quivered, perhaps with a little irony. “Well, Istanbul’s lost Byzantine port has been discovered in a neighborhood of textile factories and shabby hotels. The docks silted over many years ago, vanishing beneath following civilizations, remembered only in ancient books. A truly stunning discovery, the excavators first found ropes and then entire ships—”

  Russo snorted, now listening in. “So, back then they lost an entire ship?”

  Sadler murmured a yes. “Thirty four of them to date,” he said. “A truly fabulous, ancient armada.”

  Even Crouch was amazed by the story. “Any clues as to what they were carrying?”

  “Oh yes. Wheat from Egypt. Pottery. All and sundry. And it is here where we find our new journey’s first clue.”

  Caitlyn snapped out of her reverie. “Which is?”

  “One of the ships they found was Alexandrian. And it seems it may have contained an astounding treasure.”

  Crouch’s first impulse was not what but why. “And they sent it to Constantinople?”

  “As I mentioned Alexandria was a seething cauldron of misfortune and catastrophe. Constantinople, by comparison, was a secure haven.”

  “Which treasure?” Russo rumbled.

  “If I said to you the Hercules Tarentum what would you think?”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “Or so you think. How about the Horses of St. Mark’s? Or Lysippos?”

  “Well, the Horses of St. Mark are in Venice. Everyone knows those. But Lyspy . . . os? Nope.”

  “Lysippos. Regarded as one of the greatest sculptors the world has ever known. He was the only sculptor Alexander the Great would allow to do his portrait. His second most famous work is Bucephalus, Alexander’s horse. The ancient Romans knew all about Lysippos; he was written about time and time again and in particular by Pliny the Elder, one of the most famous Roman historians. In those times the market for Lysippos’ work, real or fake, was as lively as any of your contemporary or renaissance artists today. Now, the real kicker is that out of a supposed 1500 bronze works not a single one has survived to this day. Not one.”

  “Are you saying that the Horses of St. Mark were sculpted by Lysippos?” Crouch wondered.

  “Yes. It’s the ears you see. Next time you feel like googling look at the close similarities between the Horses of St. Mark’s and those of Bucephalus, Alexander’s horse. At worst, the Horses are a copy, as are many others around the world to this day. Lysippos also set the classical tall, slim human standard in sculpting.”

  “I get it,” Russo said. “The guy was good.”

  “Good?” Sadler echoed. “Understand this. His pupil, a man named Chares of Lindon constructed the Colossus of Rhodes, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.”

  “And what of the Hercules Tarentum?” Caitlyn asked.

  “Ah, well the Horses and the Hercules have a peculiarly mixed history. Both born of Lysippos’ talent, loved by Alexander, it is believed they possibly parted ways sometime after 323 BCE when Alexander died. Both works fell out of sight for many years, centuries in fact, reappearing in the palace of Nero, Emperor of Rome, for a short time and then the Horses at least were sent by Emperor Constantine to embellish the starting gates at his new Hippodrome in Constantinople. There they remained for almost a thousand years.”

  “And the Hercules?”

  “Well, history is a bit fuzzier on that count. Yes, it was in Rome and Alexandria before that and believed to have been returned when Alexandria formally came under Roman jurisdiction in 80 BCE. Though linked to the Horses through circumstance and Lysippos himself, not much more was known about his greatest work—the Hercules Tarentum.”

  Crouch raised a brow. “Was?”

  “The bill of lading as we know it now, originally called a bill of loading, is one of the most important documents in the history of shipping. It was invented, coincidentally and fortunately for us, in the thirteenth century. It was actually invented in Italy, because of the growing economy of sea commerce between Italian states and the Roman Empire in Constantinople. It formed a receipt of goods, contract of carriage, and a negotiable document of title.”

  “Do not tell me you found one intact?” Russo whistled.

  “They did. Out of thirty four ships discovered, twenty had lock boxes wherein bills of lading and other items were found, fragile but intact. Archaeologists examined these documents in due course, and my contact, a man I shall call Naz, made the stunning discovery. On a bill of lading was an item described as ‘The Tarentum Herakles.’ The ship’s hold was large enough to have transported the treasure, we believe. This find truly confirms that the Hercules was here, in Constantinople, with the Horses of St. Mark at the time of the Fourth Crusade.”

  “Sorry, you’re losing me a little.” Caitlyn spoke up. “Was there actually a dispute over the Hercules being there?”

  “Yes. Many said it had been melted down before the thirteenth century for its vast bronze properties. But Naz believes the statue, one of a kind and quite possibly Lysippos’ only surviving work of art, was hidden in the labyrinths underneath the Hagia Sophia when the crusaders came knocking, and quite possibly soon reunited with that other work of art—the Horses of St. Mark.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll get to that. Or perhaps Naz will. But believe me—however famous and priceless the Horses are, the Hercules would top that with ease. The crusaders who destroyed Constantinople and many of its inhabitants during the Fourth Crusade stole many, many treasures, transporting them back to their homelands. That is how, of course, the Horses of St. Mark reside in Venice right now.”

  “Because the crusaders stole them?” Healey asked, munching on a bag of crisps.

  “Stole. Plundered. But there are two sides to every coin. If it weren’t for the Venetians taking them the Horses might well have been destroyed during those three fateful days like so many other irreplaceable treasures. Only the Venetians sought to save some of history’s most remarkable creations.”

  “And yet it was their leader who led the attack,” Crouch said carefully.

  “You remember your history,” Sadler said approvingly. “Yes, a man named Enrico Dandolo, the Doge of Venice.”

  “The man who had the Horses placed in Venice, atop St. Mark’s Basilica.”

  “The very same.”

  “And this Hercules . . .” Russo said. “It would be valuable? A treasure for the world?”

  “A true life’s-best original of history’s greatest ever sculptor and the only one of his works to survive almost two and a half thousand years of history? Oh yes.”

  “Fantastic.” Russo nodded his enormous head. “When does this thing land?”

  “Soon,” Crouch said. “We need to hit the ground running. Secrets like this—they don’t stay hidden for long.”

  Caitlyn glanced across. “Are we expecting trouble, sir?”

  “I always expect trouble, Miss Nash. And Istanbul’s a hotbed of iniquity. Rolland, does Naz know where the Hercules went?”

  “Not exactly. But, being an archaeologist he does have a few ideas.”

  “We’ll contact him once we get on the ground.”

  “Very good. And best of luck, Michael.”

  Crouch grinned. “No luck involved. We’re the best at what we do.”

  FOUR

  Alicia Myles heaved an internal sigh of relief as she felt the airplane’s wheels touch down. Though never concerned about putting her life on the line she always
preferred to do it on her own terms. A first-class soldier for most of her life, and now a renowned, accomplished operative, she had never settled, never stopped chasing that horizon. Her latest escapade as part of the SPEAR team had involved life threatening risk and daring head-to-heads in Japan and Hong Kong, ending with the mind-numbing death of one of their team—Komodo. Alicia would never forget the man or the growing certainty that if she didn’t change the course of her life the rest of her days might well be measured in months, not years.

  Istanbul was a sprawl of varied civilizations, the mingling of the ancient and the modern, teeming with the fanatical, the faithful and the indifferent. Alicia collected her carry-on and exited the plane amidst a steady stream of first-class passengers. Once through customs she sought out a cab and called Michael.

  “Crouch? I’ve landed. Where are you?”

  “We’re outside the Hagia Sophia waiting for our tame archaeologist. It’s a church, the largest—”

  “I know what the bloody Hagia Sophia is,” Alicia snapped, still a little wound up from the flight and its surprising turbulence. “Not just a stunner, y’know. At least I like to think so. Haven’t had a real boyfriend to tell me in . . . well, forever.”

  Crouch clucked a little uncomfortably. “Okay. Grab a taxi and meet us here.”

  Alicia hung up, already buckled into the back seat. It would be good to see the Gold Team again. Despite herself she’d missed the belligerent but dependable Russo, the fresh-faced, talented Healey and the clever, mightily green newcomer—Caitlyn. She’d also missed Crouch’s reassuring leadership skills and his sheer enthusiasm for anything even remotely related to ancient archaeology. That man had finally found his calling. Good for him. One day my time will come.

  The streets were jam-packed with people and vehicles, dusty, sunbaked and yet the high roofs and towers rose above it all, shining, gleaming in the bright light as they stretched for the skies. Alicia kept her focus all around her, constantly on the lookout for any kind of conspirator, the soldier in her simply unable to switch off. When the great church appeared ahead she ignored its spectacular sprawl, its domes and minarets, its awe-inspiring edifice, and focused on the sidewalks all around, the gardens and any narrow alleyways. Such historical magnificence did not inspire her—it only served to remind her of all who had died in the name of religion.