The Collectors Book Two: Full Circle (The Collectors Series 2) (20 page)

“Simple,” said Petros. “No transport and those guards might be dim enough to come back again. I’d hate to be caught with my hand in the sweetie jar.”

“But if we hurry,” said Andreas.

“Andreas, we agreed to stick to the plan,” said
Kyriacos.

“Bear, you and
Kyriacos stay here and keep your eyes open. Andreas, Takis, follow me.” Petros pointed to the jacks. “Take these across the road and hide them. We might still need them.” He busied himself gathering the rest of their bits and pieces and tossed them into the sack.

Petros checked the time, his thoughts bouncing like a ball in a squash court; midnight had come and gone. He turned to
Kyriacos.

“Did Andreas check the water tank?”

“Three quarters full,” said Kyriacos.

“Bear,” said Petros. “You take the team and your collection back to the hotel. Maria and George should still be up.”

“PK, where are you going?” said Bear.

Petros remained serious for a moment. He held up the sack. “I’m going to hide this near the guards’ rest room. Tomorrow we come in empty handed.
Makes life easier.”

“What shall I tell Maria?” asked Bear. “She’ll be worried?”

“Tell her to keep the bed warm.”

From his usual vantage point he noticed a jeep and a lorry parked outside the house. For twenty minutes he monitored as the soldiers laughed and chatted. It looked as though not one of them expected anything but another boring eight hours duty.

He stowed his bag, took one more look and left.

*  *  *

Petros returned to the hotel to find Maria waiting by the fire door.

She took a deep breath letting it out slowly before grabbing him in her arms. “Where have you been? Thank God you’re safe. The others arrived back ages ago.”

She hugged him but his clear blue eyes were empty of any pretence.

“We have a problem. The bishop’s housekeeper talked. Come on, let’s get to our room.”

Petros sat on the bed and removed his boots and socks. He told her about the movement detectors and the discovery of the Templar coffins.

She sat down beside him and smiled ruefully. “Cancel this collection.”

“No way, we can beat them. But if anyone wants out they can go.” He had a sparkle in his eyes when he said it.

She stared at him for a moment. “You can be very stubborn.”

“Maria, I told the bishop I’d recover his precious icons and I will. I would prefer to go in without you but with the help of your brothers. Bear and I will go on our own if we have to. Tomorrow, I’ll still love you.”

“And I’m doing my bit.”

Petros looked at her. “You’re not coming and that’s final.”

Maria gave a half smile. “I can be as immovable as you. I have a truck to drive.” She tumbled onto the bed, closed her eyes and murmured, “Turn out the light and come to bed.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Petros did not sleep. His mind struggled with the question of who was aware of the icons. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“What’s the matter?” said Maria.

“I must get my head together before tomorrow.”

“You’re still going?”

He blinked hard and stared at the window. “Yes.”

“Cuddle me.”

He snuggled against her and closed his eyes. The warmth of her gave him strength.  Nightmares haunted his sleep. He was back in Africa. The attack by rebels had been sudden and deadly. Like dust devils, a self-sustaining whirlwind sprayed a barrage of bullets directly at men waiting for a plane to land. Unprepared, they were slaughtered where they stood. With his squad he had rested in the shade of a gully, a detail which saved their lives.

Petros opened his eyes as the dawn crept into the room. In time he fell into a deep sleep.

Maria stirred. “Need to pee.”

He got out of bed, tugged the thin curtain to one side and peered through the dirty window. The morning light brightened his spirit and his worries faded. She returned from the bathroom and he went for a shower, turning it from hot to cold. Maria pulled the shower curtain aside. “Hurry up.”

Without a word he dragged her in to the streaming water. “Your turn,” he shouted, turning the cold on full. “I’ll get dried in the bedroom.”

“I hate you,” she said. Fumbling with the controls, she grimaced.

At breakfast, Bear sat opposite Maria and Petros. The brothers arrived and Maria gave the impression of being cheerful.

Petros waited until everyone had eaten and in a calm voice he said, “To win the game you must gain the advantage. The Turks know we’re coming. How they found out doesn’t matter. I intend to collect the icons, so anyone who wants out may leave now with no hard feelings.” He paused in the act of pouring another cup of coffee, while studying the faces of his team.

“You have your answer,” said Maria. “We volunteered.” Her brothers nodded in unison.

“Right, Bear get those artefacts you removed and conceal them in truck number one. In ten minutes you and I will make tracks for Varosha. I intend to keep an eye on those guards for most of today. I need to know if their routines have changed.”

“Are you going to sell what you found,
Bear?” said George.

“Not a chance in a million. It’ll be handed over to the correct authority, catalogued, inspected and no doubt copied. Items such as these must be placed in a museum. It’s your island’s history.”

“What shall the rest of us do?” said Maria.

“Act like tourists, visit the sites. I want you ready to leave the hotel at six.”

*  *  *

Petros and Bear entered
Varosha and stealthily approached the building next to the guards’ card-playing venue. Two of the soldiers left and crossed the road. They remained relaxed and joked with each other. A lack of discipline surrounded them; tedium from nothing ever happening. It appeared the men used the adjacent house as a toilet; afterwards they stood outside, chatted, and shared a cigarette before returning.

The harsh roar of a vehicle approaching at high speed caused the soldiers to stop playing. Petros noted that the VW Golf carried one man in uniform. The wheels locked when the driver hit the brakes and the car skidded to a halt.

“A captain by his insignia,” said Petros in a whisper.

“The way he slammed that car door,” said Bear, “I don’t think he’s a happy bunny.”

The captain shouted in an indecipherable language. His outburst made the corporal and his squad flinch, and with their weapons they ran from the building and formed a line. Petros continued to peer through the doorway, listening. “He’s reading the riot act. Looks like they’re scared shitless.”

“He definitely has their attention,” said Bear.
“Poor sods. What does he expect from woodentops?”

His tirade complete, the captain drove away faster than he arrived.

“I get the impression that excuse for an officer had his balls put through a meat grinder this morning,” said Petros.

“Hang on, PK, something’s happening.”

Three men jumped into their truck and drove away. One man remained smoking a cigarette. The vehicle came back fifteen minutes later. The soldiers appeared relaxed and chatted among themselves. For the rest of the day three left on the half hour and returned after completing their checks.

Petros stood and leaned against a wall. “Why is it when you think you’ve worked out every option an officious bastard changes it. They’re physically checking the churches.”

“We have always agreed, PK, when you work outside the boundaries of the law you never assume.”

“Right in one.
May I suggest we get our arses in gear and find somewhere to eat?” His voice grew sombre. “Sometimes this job frightens me.”

“PK, when you stop being scared, you’re dead.”

*  *  *

Petros placed his hand on Bear’s right shoulder. “Where did you hide our crossbows?”

“In the back of Maria’s truck.”

“I’ll be happier with a weapon. I just pray we’ll not need them.”

Petros glanced at his cheap plastic watch; five past three. His expression lightened.

“Now all we have to do is get you fed and when it’s dark do the fastest disappearing trick in the world.”

“Now you’re talking. I’m hungry.”

*  *  *

The colonel stopped, stood in front of the window and sipped his coffee.

“Explain something to me, Captain. You seem certain these icons will be retrieved tonight.”

“Correct, sir.” the captain said cheerfully.

“That’s good.” He lifted the percolator jug and refilled his cup, not offering the captain any. “I have no need to remind you, dead men tell no tales. Brief your people, impart whatever you like, but never mention the religious paintings.” He walked to his desk, rubbed his forehead and slumped into his chair. “Remember, Captain, if this fails your career’s finished.”

With a hasty, “Yes, sir,” Captain Yilmaz left, muttering under his breath. “Pompous, arrogant bastard. It’s all right for him in his warm comfortable office to never get his hands dirty but he’ll demand his share.”

***

Two hours of daylight remained when Petros and Bear walked across the floor of reception. Both men carried a canvas bag apiece. Maria and her brothers had not returned and Petros could hear Bear’s stomach growling.

The taverna, concealed from passing trade in a small courtyard, had no other customers. Petros and Bear ate a large plateful of goat chops and chips. In between mouthfuls, they discussed their plan for the coming evening.

“Thankfully, everything’s covered,” said Petros.

“It helps to keep it simple.
Leaves less room for cock-ups.”

“Retrieving the icons is the easy bit. The hard part will be getting away.”

“You’re the smart one, PK.”

“No, I’m not. I try to think of someone smarter than me and ask myself what they would do. Then I do it.”

The meal over, they returned to the hotel. The rest of the team were waiting in Petros and Maria’s room.

Unease filled his mind as Petros considered all the options and the uncertainty of not knowing if the recovery would go as planned. He and Bear had gone over it several times. He glanced at his watch: six o’clock. Their preparations were complete, yet his surveillance told him they should not attempt an entry until it became dark and the guards changed. They had time to waste. With a slice of luck they would be in and out before any alarm bells rattled.

“Okay, guys, get your gear on, time to go,” said Petros. “Don’t forget to carry your ski masks and gloves.”

The brothers, along with Bear, left the room.

“What’s in the bag, PK?”

“Insurance, Maria, in case a stupid soldier gets trigger happy.”

“Guns?”

“No, but the sight of one of these pointed straight at them scares the shit out of most people. Time you and George moved the trucks, Maria. See you later.”

*  *  *

Petros concealed the two crossbows in a sack and followed his team dressed in army fatigues. Together they left the hotel by the rear fire door. Carrying their ski masks and gloves, they ambled in the shadows. There seemed to be an unusual number of soldiers on the streets. Were they simply enjoying a night on the town, Petros
wondered.

In pairs and in silence they strolled along the street. When they reached the seafront they stopped and stared into shop windows. One at a time, they crossed the road to the beach.

The full moon enabled them to see but even though the beach remained deserted, Petros checked to make sure no one followed. In the foyer of a derelict hotel, he gathered them together.

“Right, you follow my orders, not your own. If I go down, follow Bear. Understood?”

“Bossy bastard, aren’t you?” said Takis.

“We stay alive that way,” said Bear.

“Whatever you say, boss,” said Andreas, his annoyance at Takis rising.

Unable to stay quiet,
Kyriacos snapped, “What’s with the fancy crossbows?”

“Just in case.”

If doubt existed in their minds of the danger attached to this operation none displayed it.

Remaining in the shadows, the five moved from one dark patch to another until they reached the house closest to the soldiers.

“Now the hard part.
We wait,” said Petros, kneeling on the bare boards.

Bear stretched out beside him, got comfortable, closed his eyes and appeared to be asleep. The others sat on the floor or on discarded bits of furniture.

The sound of a heavy vehicle approaching made the group edgy. Petros peered out of the window.

“How many, PK?” asked
Bear.

“Four, with rifles.
We’ll have to take them out with no noise.”

“Ready when you are,” said Bear.

The brothers stood and stretched.

“Hoods and gloves on,” said Petros. “Your crossbow, Bear, and don’t point it anywhere you shouldn’t.”

“Now would I?”

Petros tightened his lips. “Ready?”

They all nodded.

Petros and Bear, closely followed by the others, walked boldly into the room where the soldiers were playing cards. A fog of cigarette smoke hung from the ceiling polluting the night air.

They pointed their crossbows. “Good evening, gentlemen,” said Petros. “Haven’t you been told? Smoking is bad for your health? Hands in the air.”

A look of doubt appeared on every face. The men raised their arms. The sergeant turned and shrugged. He muttered something in Turkish and in English replied, “We’ll do what you ask. You look nasty enough to mean what you say.”

“Glad to hear it, Sergeant. Tell your men no harm will come to them. You see these two brutes.” He pointed to Bear and Takis. “They’re big, mean and love a fight. The choice is yours.”

The sergeant spoke to his squad who stared at Bear and
Takis. In unison they raised their arms higher.

“Andreas,
Kyriacos, use two cable ties; one joined to the other and secure both arms behind their backs. Make them sit and fasten one leg to each post of the chair. Sorry, gentlemen, but we need to gag you.”

The two brothers secured the soldiers and used their belts to gag them.

“They won’t get free in a hurry and by that time we’ll be long gone,” said Takis.

“Don’t you think you’re over doing it?” said an accented voice in English from the entrance. “Stay where you are and don’t move,” he ordered with authority.

Everyone froze. The officer’s mouth stretched in a broad smile. The Uzi SMG glistened in his right hand. With a flourish, he waved it menacingly at Petros and his team, his aggression unmistakable.

“Very theatrical.
Crossbows, masks and wearing army uniforms. Raise your hands in the air where I can see them.”

Petros forced himself to relax and elevated his hands, his eyes riveted on the Uzi. He grimaced and like a snake ready to strike, fixed his prey. “Behind you there’s a good-looking woman holding a gun and she’s aiming to blow what brains you have over this room. It’ll make a mess but I don’t suppose you’ll care.” There was a hint of uncertainty in the man’s eyes, but Petros kept his speech lucid and calm. “Maria, listen to me before you ...”

The captain sneered, his voice cutting the air. “It’s been done before, my friend. Don’t for a moment think I’m like these imbeciles, a stupid amateur?”

Petros shrugged and continued to hold his hands in the air.

Maria, her steps soft on the ground, took one further step and pressed the metal of the fake Browning nine-millimetre firmly onto the back of the man’s head. His body stiffened.