Black Harvest (The PROJECT) (5 page)

"Consequences?"

"Demeter is the goddess of the harvest and fertility. When she finds out Hades has taken her daughter, she goes into a rage. She shifts into her vengeful aspect as Demeter Erinys and makes everything stop reproducing. The crops die. There's famine, disease. No children. All the animals are sterile. She won't let anything grow or reproduce until Persephone is freed. One thing about Greek gods and goddesses, you didn't want to piss them off."

One of the things Nick liked about Selena was her earthy language. It wasn't something you expected from a background like hers.

"That's the curse?"

"Yes. She makes a deal with Zeus. In return for Persephone's freedom, she puts things back to normal and agrees not to do it again. All that is pretty standard. But in this version she hedges her bets. She hides her power to stop everything, just in case."

Ronnie said, "I'll bet I know where."

Selena waited.

"In a golden urn."

"That's right."

Harker picked up the silver pen that had belonged to F
DR
.
She began tapping. Thinking.

"Sometimes there's a historical basis for these stories, something real. I wonder if there's something behind this one?"

"Campbell thought there was," Nick said.

"Campbell, Weinstein and McCullough had two things in common. They knew about the story on the tablets and they were experts in the same field. Campbell and Weinstein also had high security clearances."

"Why would they need high clearances?" Selena asked.

"They were working on something secret for the Pentagon," Elizabeth said. "It wouldn't be the first time CDC was involved in a bio-warfare program."

"The Greeks used bio-warfare. They'd throw dead plague victims over the walls of a besieged city, or catapult poisonous snakes onto enemy ships. Poison the water supply with dead animals."

"Never seems like there's anything really new, does it?" Harker rolled her pen around on her desk. "Campbell thought the urn was important. But we don't know what happened to it."

"We know Alexander gave it to Aetolikos," Selena said. "I followed up on him. He turns out to be a cousin of Alexander, one of his sub-commanders. Family."

"Did you find out where he took it?"

"He dropped off the treasure in Pella and went home to Dion. There's no record of him after that. Dion was in Macedonia and had a big temple dedicated to Demeter. It was overrun when the Persians invaded. That might be where Xerxes found the urn."

"You think Alexander's cousin took it back to Dion?"

"It makes sense. He would have seen it as returning something of the goddess to it's rightful place."

"It doesn't seem likely it would still be around," Nick said.

Selena shrugged. "No. But the town is still there."

"We have to try and find out what happened to that urn." Harker turned to Selena. "How's your Greek?"

CHAPTER EIGHT

The hotel bed was uncomfortable. The room was stuffy, the red drapes on the windows dark and heavy. The thick smog of Athens made her eyes water. She was glad when her plane lifted off and she left the city behind.

Dion was a long way north of Athens, at the foot of Mount Olympus. The nearest airport was Thessaloniki. At Thessaloniki Selena rented a car and wound her way 70 kilometers north to her next hotel. The desk clerk was eager to please. Guests were few, even at this five star resort. The beautiful beach outside her hotel window was almost deserted. A man strolled with his dog. A young couple huddled under a shared blanket against a steady breeze coming off the Aegean.

Her first solo assignment.
You're not in Kansas, anymore,
she thought to herself.
You're on your own.
It felt good. It also felt a little scary, without the team around her.

She wasn't armed. This was just a research trip, no different from trips she'd taken in the past to research some point of language or culture. She didn't expect trouble, but Nick's words echoed in her head.

Never think things are what they appear to be. Always watch for the false word, the hidden knife, the gun. Trust no one.

Trust no one.

It wasn't a new thought. It had taken a long time to trust again after her parents and brother died. She'd been ten years old. Then she'd grown into an attractive woman and learned not to trust men. She still didn't trust most of them. Nick was an exception. She'd trust him with her life, that wasn't a problem. Trusting him with her heart, that was another matter. He'd said he loved her. She knew he meant it, in his own way, but that didn't mean it was trustworthy. There were a lot of different levels of trust. She brushed the confusing thoughts aside and considered her mission.

Aetolikos had come home a long time ago. He was related to Alexander, he'd been important. Something might have turned up about him during excavations in the area. The archeological museum in Dion was the best place to start. If that didn't work out, she'd ask around the village. There could be something in local oral traditions.

The hotel restaurant smelled of the sea. It was large and almost empty. She ordered dolmades, a salad, a bottle of mineral water, some bread and oil. A middle-aged man read a newspaper over coffee at a corner table. Four older couples, probably from a tour, sat near the windows looking bored.

Two large men in boxy, dark suits came in and sat down. They glanced her way, then ignored her. They ordered lunch in stilted English, along with a bottle of retsina, the strong Greek drink she thought tasted like turpentine. They began talking business. It took her a moment to place the language as Georgian. Selena couldn't speak it, but she understood the basics. From what she could make out, the men were talking about importing olives. Or maybe they were selling them.

Selena tuned them out and ate her meal slowly, thinking about Nick and what it would be like to live with him. Maybe it would be better to leave things as they were. She finished, signed her bill and walked past the table with the two men. Their eyes followed her out of the room.

It was Saturday, already after noon, and the museum closed at 2:30 on Saturday during the winter months. She decided to go now. She got directions to the museum at the desk.

The day was beautiful and chill, with the clear blue sky and crystalline quality of sunlight she'd found nowhere in the world except Greece. For Selena, it was one of the most beautiful and interesting places in the world. Snow-capped Mount Olympus dominated the spectacular scenery.

Olympus, the home of the gods. She wondered what the gods would think of modern Greece, mired in a sea of opportunistic corruption and impossible debt. Even Ulysses would not have been able to sail those waters.

The museum was modern, two stories high. She paid a modest fee and began exploring. The first floor was given over to artifacts and sculpture. A nice statue of Dionysius, god of wine. A display featuring coins and relics from early Christian and Roman sites in the area. Interesting, but none of it useful. She went upstairs.

The prime exhibit was a hydraulic water organ over two thousand years old. She wondered what the music had sounded like. The rest of the floor dealt with life in classical Dion. Tools. Pottery. A child's toy horse, small statues of the gods, everything displayed in glass cases that ran along the walls or stood on plinths on their own.

Selena came to a new section. The centerpiece of the display was a full scale cast taken from the lid of a tomb. It was perfect, unmarred by weather and time. A young and handsome face was carved on the lid in bas relief, helmeted and confident and haughty, the lips full and voluptuous. Even in the cold white of plaster the face was astounding, beautiful, perfectly proportioned, as if the lips would suddenly open and speak. Selena looked at the inscription engraved below and translated in her mind.

Aetolikos

Safe in Elysium

CHAPTER NINE

"You found his tomb?"

Harker put Selena's call on the speaker. Nick and Stephanie listened.

"Not his tomb. A cast taken from inside it. The tomb was only discovered last fall. The archeologist in charge sealed it and stopped excavation during the winter rains, but he's about to start up again."

"How did you find that out?"

"I had coffee with the curator of the museum. He was thrilled to have someone to talk to and very enthusiastic about the tomb. It's built into the side of a hill with several rooms. The connection to Alexander makes it a priority dig. There could be something there."

"Can you get into it?"

"I don't know. I've got some names and I've got the location. Nothing's going to happen until Monday."

"What's your plan?"

"Go out there, introduce myself, use my credentials. Butter up the chief archeologist and hint at good publicity for him. Everyone wants academic recognition. Tell him I'd appreciate a guided tour. I think he'll go for it."

"And?"

"If I see something, check it out."

Harker picked up her pen, twirled it in her fingers. Nick waited for the tapping to begin and breathed an inward sigh of relief when she set it down.

"Is anyone else showing interest?"

"Not that I've noticed." The connection hissed with atmospherics. "This place is like a ghost town. There aren't many people staying here. The ones I've seen don't strike me as unusual. A couple of businessmen from Georgia. A couple of honeymooners. Some older folks."

"What are American businessmen doing in Dion?" Nick asked. His ear began itching.

"Not Georgia like Atlanta. Georgia as in the nation. I didn't pay much attention. They were talking over lunch, something about exporting olives to Russia."

Someone knocked on her door.

"Just a minute." She called out. "Yes?"

"Room service." The voice was muffled.

Still holding the phone, she walked to the door. "Room service. I didn't order anything. Hang on."

She started to open the door. It slammed into her, knocking her back into the room. The phone flew from her hand. The two men she had seen in the restaurant came hard into the room.

Twenty years of martial arts kicked in. Master Kim had seen promise in his young student and taken her aside for special instruction. Over the years he'd taught her a more dangerous level of the art.

She'd landed on her back on the floor when the men burst in. Selena used the movement to somersault herself back and up. She stepped to the side of the man charging at her, grabbed his jacket with both hands and brushed him with her hip. His momentum sent him flying into the wall across the room. The second was on her, wrapping his arms around her. She knew better than to try and use her strength to escape. Instead, she spit in his face. He pulled back in reflex. She head butted him with everything she had. He wasn't expecting it and loosed his hold.

It was enough. She pivoted and used her left hand to grasp his right in a wrist lock and bore down. The hard lock sent an instant, overwhelming pain up his arm. It blocked thought for a critical instant, all she needed. She reached under his elbow with her other hand and levered the elbow up and in and away. It made an ugly sound like a wet branch breaking. He screamed in agony. She moved back and kicked him in the groin with her leg and heel extended, crushing his testicles. He screamed again and fell to the floor.

The other man had a gun, a big automatic. She spun with a high kick and knocked it from his hand. She followed with a strike to the solar plexus, a blow to the throat, a deadly fist up under the ribcage. He collapsed. His face went purple. He died.

The first attacker moaned in pain, clutching his groin. His right arm lay at an odd angle. Selena walked over to him. She felt cold, her mind clear and focused. He had touched her, grabbed her. He had wanted to hurt her, worse, she had no doubt. She considered the strike that would kill him. Just in time, she thought better of it. He would have answers.

She shivered. Where did this urge to kill come from? What had happened to her civilized education, her deep sense of compassion, her sense of common humanity? For an instant they'd vanished like a wisp of smoke in a harsh wind.