Age of Heroes (38 page)

“That should do it,” he said.

Melina gave him and Chase a crash course in firearms handling. The two demigods knew a little about the subject already. Theo had toted a revolver during both his London consulting detective period and his Los Angeles gumshoe phase, and had done homework on guns while researching for the Jake Killian novels. Chase, for his part, had a rifle permit for hunting. They quickly got the hang of the basics of semiautos – how to load a clip, rack a slide and clear a breech jam.

When they emerged above decks, the Sea Fox was nosing its way out of the harbour, threading a course between tankers, cruise liners and container vessels, a salmon among whales.

N
OW, AS THEY
homed in on the island owned by Evander Arlington, Theo recalled how he had journeyed to Crete to meet the man for the first time.

Athens was being forced to pay tribute to King Minos after he conquered it in revenge for the murder of his son Androgeus at the Panathenaic Games. The tribute, a kind of war reparation, consisted of seven young men and seven young women to be sent to Crete every nine years as fodder for the Minotaur. Theseus volunteered to be one of the next consignment, after arriving at Knossos, killed the Minotaur in its labyrinth lair, with more than a little help from Minos’s daughter Ariadne. He returned to Athens in triumph and assumed the throne recently vacated by the late King Aegeus.

Having met Minos and seen first-hand how a monarch ought not to behave, Theseus made it his mission to be the opposite. Where Minos was petty and temperamental, Theseus was wise and patient. Where Minos ruled through fear and intimidation, Theseus ruled with fairness and justice. He copied him in only one respect. The Cretan navy was then the largest in the Mediterranean, and cemented Minos’s power in the region. Theseus commissioned the building of an Athenian navy that would not be just the equal of Crete’s but its superior – the mightiest single fleet, in fact, that the world had yet known. Never again would Athens be held to ransom by its enemies.

The ocean became Athens’s empire, its unchallenged domain, and by securing peace and prosperity for his subjects through naval strength, Theseus laid the foundation for the thriving cultural hub the city soon evolved into.

It was, and perhaps would always be, his supreme achievement. And in a roundabout way he had Minos to thank for it.

T
HEIR DESTINATION LAY
midway between the islands of Kea and Gyaros: a flat-topped rocky outcrop, two kilometres across at its widest point. Seen from above, is resembled a heart, hence its name: Kardionisi.

The inlet between the lobes of the heart formed a natural deepwater harbour, and Rosalind guided the Sea Fox into this and towards a concrete jetty where a sleek 150-foot superyacht was moored. Crisply-dressed domestic servants appeared and caught the ropes she and Sasha tossed to them. Within seconds the boat was tethered, and Rosalind killed the engines

Theo, Chase and Sasha disembarked, each with a handgun secreted somewhere under their clothing. Chase was also toting his backpack, with the Helm of Darkness inside. Rosalind and Melina stayed aboard to guard the Sea Fox and its cargo of armaments. Should Sasha summon them, they were to come running with as much of the arsenal as they could carry. By the same token, they should have the boat ready to depart at a moment’s notice. The Sea Fox was the demigods’ lifeline, in case the worst should happen. The Wonder Women knew enough about the situation to understand that their boss and her friends were relying on them. Theo had the feeling they could be trusted to do their part; their loyalty to Sasha was a fierce mixture of admiration and love. They would not let her down.

“I am Ioannis,” said one of the servants, grey-haired, the most senior of them. He spoke Oxford English, with barely a trace of a Greek accent. “The Arlingtons’ major domo. I’m here to show you to the house. Would you like me to carry your pack, sir?”

He held out a hand to Chase.

Chase shook his head. “It’s not heavy. I’m good.”

“As you wish. Kindly follow me.”

Ioannis led the three demigods to a funicular elevator whose track climbed the gradient from the jetty to the island’s brow. The ascent was slow and smooth and took them through a field of photovoltaic panels, their faces tilted to the sun.

“Kardionisi is powered by solar energy,” he said. “It also has a desalination plant for water. We are almost entirely self-sufficient, except for food. That arrives every week from the mainland by boat.”

“Nice set-up,” said Chase. “This were my pad, I’d be tempted never to leave. Mind you, if this were my pad, I’d be a James Bond villain.”

Ioannis blithely ignored the remark. “Mr and Mrs Arlington spend at least part of every summer here. They have houses in the Hamptons, on Mustique and in Cannes, so you could say they are spoiled for choice, but I like to think that Kardionisi is their favourite, the place where they feel the most relaxed and carefree.”

The elevator halted and Ioannis slid the door open. Ahead, a broad, crushed-seashell footpath wound through a grove of oleanders. At the end sat a rangy, multi-level house built of whitewashed stone. The architecture was modern with Hellenic flourishes: fluted Doric columns, porticoed doorways, temple roofs. Overall, though, the lines were clean and unfussy. Plate-glass picture windows gazed out over the sea in every direction.

Ornamental gardens surrounded the house – clipped hedges, hibiscus bushes, urns, cornucopias, and various items of statuary, a mixture of the figurative and the abstract. An infinity pool nestled beside a clay tennis court. Just visible was a helicopter pad, where a silver Westland passenger chopper was parked. There was even a maze, formed of trained cypresses.

Chase nudged Theo. “Couldn’t help himself, could he? Had to have a labyrinth somewhere.”

“It’s kind of his signature, I guess,” Theo said.

Yet he couldn’t suppress a small shiver as he thought of the actual labyrinth on Crete, the Minotaur’s lair. All that cold damp subterranean stone, the tunnels hollowing into darkness, the countless sharp turns and dead ends, the floors littered with cracked bones, and at the centre something that stamped and snorted thunderously and every now and then bellowed a terrible, near-human cry. Daedalus himself had designed it, and Theo recalled thinking that he was not simply up against the brute strength and savagery of the Minotaur but also the mind of the greatest inventor of the era. The labyrinth was tricksy and deceptive, full of repeating patterns that confounded you, staircases that doubled back on themselves or headed nowhere, and inclines that went up when you were expected them to go down and vice versa. Everything about it was intended to make you feel lost and hopeless, constantly retracing your steps, until despair and claustrophobia robbed you of your wits, leaving you easy pickings for its half-man, half-animal inhabitant. If Ariadne hadn’t given him a thread to unspool as he entered the labyrinth, to mark his path back to the exit, he might well have ended his days in there, gibbering, starving.

As they neared the house, Theo sneaked a look at his phone. Still nothing from Roy Young, not a peep. He chose to take this as a good omen. If the Myrmidons were on Kardionisi, or at least making their way here, Young would surely have warned him by now.

Unless Young had run into difficulties. What if Holger Badenhorst hadn’t been fooled by his story, and had rewarded his disloyalty with a bullet in the head?

Young was too wily for that to happen, Theo thought. But then again, how well did he know the Englishman? Perhaps he had placed too much faith in him.

Regardless, he was at Evander Arlington’s home now, about to meet the man face to face. If this was the lions’ den, he was firmly in it. There was no backing out. As with the labyrinth on Crete, the only option was to forge on, head for the middle, and be prepared for whatever might come.

Ioannis ushered the three demigods through the main entrance into a cool, airy atrium. From there a short flight of steps led up to a spacious reception room furnished with low leather sofas, marble tables and a tasteful smattering of
objets d’art
. The broad windows showed other Cycladean islands near and far, each apparently suspended on a cushion of heat haze, hovering like a ghost.

“May I fetch some sort of refreshment?”

“What have you got?” Chase asked.

“What haven’t we?”

“Whisky, maybe?”

“Macallan Lalique single malt scotch. Will that do?”

“Sounds expensive.”

“Could not be more so.”

“Then I’ll have a shot of that,” Chase said, adding, “On the rocks.”

Ioannis’s expression soured just briefly before reverting to its previous imperturbable state. “On the rocks. Of course. Any other requests? Madam? Sir?”

Sasha and Theo declined. Ioannis glided out of the room.

“I know, I’m a monster,” Chase said. “But it’s worth ruining good liquor just to see the way that snooty asshole’s face fell.”

“He’s not snooty,” Theo said. “He’s professional.”

“Same difference.” Chase ambled over to the nearest window and pressed his nose against it. “Seriously, this is how to live. Look at the place. It’s like Elysium on Earth. It’s as close as you can get to being a god without, you know, actually being one. You have to hand it to Arlington. He’s got it made. If I was a one-per-center like him...”

“A one-percenter?” said a woman’s voice, with a disdainful chuckle. “Evander? Hardly!”

Theo turned to see Hélène Arlington standing in the doorway.

S
HE WAS STUNNING.
As stunning as she had always been. Flawless skin, lustrous eyes, gleaming hair. A swanlike neck; an imperious nose.

She occupied the doorway as though she was a portrait and it was the frame. One leg was poised slightly ahead of the other, so that her hip was cocked and her torso in three-quarter profile, showing off the curves of her figure to their best advantage. Her dress was square-cut and sheer, the neckline revealing a discreet measure of cleavage. There was jewellery – a lot – but all of it chic, unflashy, expensive without proclaiming itself to be.

If there was one significant difference between the Helen enshrined in Theo’s memory and the woman in front of him, it was the changes in her skin tone and hair colour, the one darkened, the other lighter. In Ancient Greece a pale complexion was prized in females. It betokened wealth and leisure, the mark of someone who did not have to toil in a field for a living, someone who spent only as much time outdoors as she wished. Hélène, by contrast, sported a perfect all-over tan, golden bordering on bronze. Her hair, meanwhile, was no longer a tumble of black curls, but arranged in two straightened swoops and burnished with coppery highlights. She was glossily metallic, almost literally a trophy.

“He’s the one-percenter’s one-percenter,” she said. “Everyone envies and despises the mega-rich, but Evander’s one of the people the mega-rich envy and despise.”

She broke her pose and strode into the room.

“Theseus,” she said. “Long time no see.”

She extended a hand to him, fingers downturned. He shook it.

“What, you’re not going to kiss it?”

“Times have changed. People don’t do that anymore.”

“Well, they should.”

“And it’s Theo. Not Theseus.”

“Of course. And Chase. Dear Chase.”

Chase, somewhat to Theo’s surprise, did kiss the proffered hand, although not without an impish glint in his eye.

“And last but not least, Sasha Grace. How are you, my love?”

The two women air-kissed, cheeks touching lightly, briefly.

“I must say, I rarely have cause to complain about the bodyguards you send,” Hélène said. “They are interesting and accomplished girls. One or two might be somewhat less than polished, but for the most part you choose well.”

“All part of the service.”

“Such a clever idea. Male protection details can be so dreary. It’s like dragging a refrigerator around with you all day, only with worse conversational skills. A Wonder Woman, on the other hand, isn’t just a bodyguard but a companion. You can ask her opinion on wardrobe, makeup, hairstyle, anything, and at the same time you know she’ll see off pests and keep you safe from harm. I recommend your agency to all my friends, you know.”

“Grateful for the business.”

“Did you happen to bring any of your girls with you today?”

“Rosalind and Melina. They’re down with our boat.”

“How delightful. Melina’s one of my favourites. She has the rough beauty of the Greek peasant stock. Reminds me of one of my handmaidens back in Laconia. I’ll see to it that they get something to eat. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”

“Thank you.”

Sasha was not enjoying the chitchat, or the near-toxic levels of condescension. Her smile remained amicable but her eyes were saying
bitch
. Hélène knew it, too, and didn’t care.

“Your husband...?” Theo said.

“Theseus. Theo. You’re so hasty. So impatient. Always in a rush. That was your great failing when we were together, as I recall. Couldn’t wait to get to the climax.”

Chase suppressed a snigger – or at least tried to.

“Evander won’t be a moment,” Hélène continued. “He’s on his way. He just has some business to attend to. Am I not enough in the meantime?”

The look she fixed Theo with was radiant, dazzling, devastating. All at once it was as if he was back at the temple of Artemis, seeing her for the first time. He forgot about how everything had gone wrong between them, how their love had shrivelled and curdled after just a few short weeks. He could think only of prostrating himself before her and begging her to be his again.

He wanted to reply,
More than enough
. What he managed to say, with effort, was, “It’s him we’ve come to talk to.”

“Of course. I’m just the wife; the old ball and chain. Nobody’s interested in me.”

“I wouldn’t say that. I only –”

“I’m used to it. Evander’s the multibillionaire. All I do is hang off his arm at parties looking ravishing. It’s all I’m good for. That and putting up with his male friends pawing at me when their wives’ backs are turned.”