For more than a century, all attempts to decipher the message had been unsuccessful. There was no way to know for sure if the images on the Disc even represented a real language. The meaning of the symbols was so perplexing that a few embittered researchers believed that the Disc was a twentieth century hoax. But in late 2014, a team of scholars led by Gareth Owens, a linguist working at the Technological Educational Institute of Crete, announced that they had cracked the code, using the Minoan Linear A script along with Mycenaean Linear B to identify several keywords. The working hypothesis was that the Disc contained a prayer to a Minoan mother goddess.
Yet while the mystery of the message had been solved, what could not be explained was the uniqueness of the symbols themselves. Each of the pictograms had been stamped into the soft clay using carved seals, one of the earliest known instances of typographic printing. Some ancient craftsman had carved the forty-five seals, used them to create the Disc, and then evidently destroyed them so they could never be used again. The symbols on the Phaistos Disc were unique, appearing there and nowhere else.
Or so it was believed.
Fiona knew differently.
They closed in on the display, and Pierce shone his red light on the keyhole of a cabinet lock, which was partially concealed in the base of the display. Fiona selected the appropriate tools from the pick kit and went to work on the lock. It took less than two minutes for her to defeat the simple mechanism, and this time she double-checked for an alarm before opening the case.
Pierce moved the beam of his light to the shadowy interior of the display, illuminating the Phaistos Disc. It looked so ordinary, a slightly irregular pat of clay, like a grade school art project stamped with what looked like decorative images. It was hard to believe that something so ordinary could be so mysterious, and potentially dangerous.
Fiona reached a hand in and grasped the Disc between thumb and forefinger. She eased it from the bracket and brought it out. Pierce took the artifact from her, and then proffered something with his other hand: an exact replica, created using 3-D molecular printing technology, precise down to the microscopic level. A scientific analysis of this duplicate disc might reveal it to be a fake—or it might not. The technology at the Herculean Society’s disposal was truly that good—but because such a test had never been conducted on the real McCoy, no one would suspect that a substitution had been made. The assumption would be that the infamous Phaistos Disc had been a hoax all along.
With equal caution, Fiona reached back into the case and placed the duplicate where the original had been. She made one final adjustment, rotating the bogus disc a degree or two, then closed the display while Pierce slipped the authentic Disc into a cloth pouch, which he then stowed in a small satchel slung over one shoulder.
Behind her black ski-mask, Fiona allowed herself a satisfied smile. They had done it. Now all they needed to do was relock the display case and get out without—
Her smile died along with the hopeful sentiment as she caught a glint of white light, reflected in the glass pane. She looked up just as the source of the light, a flashlight in the hands of a uniformed man, appeared in the doorway. Then it shone right into her eyes.
3
Pierce gave the end of his MagTac a quick twist to remove the red filter cap and aimed the naked light directly into the face of the startled watchman. The man flinched, throwing his hands up and looking away, too late to prevent temporary blindness. The high intensity LED bulb would leave him seeing bright green spots for the next few minutes.
Pierce grabbed Fiona’s shoulder. “Run.”
He sensed her hesitation, so he gave her a shake to snap her out of her paralysis. “Remember the plan.”
The exhortation broke the spell. She whirled around and bolted for the exit. Pierce was just a few steps behind her, but as they reached the door, he slowed and glanced back at the guard. Despite being unable to see, the man stumbled through the maze of display cases, intent on pursuing them. Pierce checked to make sure that Fiona was still moving toward the door, and then he turned back toward the night watchman, sweeping the room with the beam of the MagTac to make sure he had the man’s attention.
The ‘plan’ Pierce had spoken of, which had been worked out in detail during their earlier reconnaissance, was simple. In the event that they were discovered, they would split up and leave the museum by different routes to confound pursuit. Because she had no experience with such things, Fiona accepted the plan without protest. This break-in was, after all, her baptism by fire. It was her first taste of what being an agent of the Herculean Society really meant.