Empire of Gold

4


Eddie departed the hotel the next morning without breakfast or even a word, leaving Nina in a bad mood. She was still mad at him – and Larry – for their sheer childishness.

Her outfit from the previous night was on a chair; she folded the skirt and blouse to return them to her suitcase. The creased business card dropped to the floor. She glowered at it, then found her wallet and slipped it inside. Amongst the phone numbers was Larry’s home; though she had no particular desire to talk to him, she might still want to speak to Julie, if only to apologise again.

But for now she had work to do. Though she had spoken to the trustees of Glastonbury Tor from New York, the hastiness of the arrangements meant she wanted to check that all was in order before setting out. She started making calls.

Half an hour later, everything was confirmed. Nina tied her hair back in a ponytail and was gathering her belongings when her phone rang. Eddie? No, Macy. ‘Hello?’

‘Hi, Nina!’ From the background noise, Macy was apparently in a car, and going at considerable speed.

‘Hey, Macy. Where are you?’

‘On the freeway. M3, I think it’s called. I’m on my way to you.’

‘Did you bring either of the statues?’

‘I’ve got both of them! Mr Penrose persuaded Dr Assad to let the Egyptian one go on vacation, and your friend at Interpol – Mr Jindal? He said yes right away about the other one. Are you still in this Bournemouth place?’

‘Yes, I’m at the hotel.’ Nina gave her the postcode.

‘Okay,’ Macy said after entering it into the satnav, ‘it says I’m seventy-five miles from you. Also says it’ll take an hour twenty-five to get there, but pshht! I can do better than that.’ The engine note rose.

‘There’s no rush, Macy,’ Nina told her. ‘They’re not expecting us there until lunchtime.’

‘No problem. You and Eddie can show me round England first.’

‘Eddie’s not coming today.’

‘No? Huh. Why not?’

‘Personal reasons,’ was the only answer Nina felt like giving. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

‘Where’s Nina today?’ asked Nan.

She and Eddie were on a clifftop road overlooking the sea, Bournemouth’s pier jutting into the English Channel to the west. He was pushing her along in a wheelchair, an oxygen cylinder on its back connected to her breath mask; though unhappy about the enforced helplessness of her situation, for now she had resigned herself to it. ‘She’s gone to Glastonbury, Nan,’ he told her. ‘Some archaeological thing.’

‘Oh, I see. Why haven’t you gone with her?’

He was still simmering from the previous night, but kept it to himself. ‘Because you wanted me to take you out for a walk,’ he said instead. ‘So here I am!’

‘But what if something happens to her?’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know, but things always seem to happen to you two. Like the last time you were here, and the Imax got blown up.’ She pointed at a tower crane inshore of the pier, marking the site where a group of Russian mercenaries had come to a fiery end. ‘They had to demolish it, you know. Which was marvellous, it was a hideous building! But I do worry.’

‘Well, there’s nothing to worry about at the moment. Far as I know, we haven’t upset any cults, there aren’t any ancient civilisations somebody wants to keep secret and nobody’s trying to kill us.’

‘That’s as may be, but I can’t help it. And I’m sure Nina would feel better with you there.’ They continued along the road for a short while before Nan spoke again. ‘What are you going to do today if Nina’s not here, then?’

‘You make it sound like I can’t do anything without her permission.’

‘You know what I mean – you’re a couple, you usually do things together.’

He hadn’t actually thought any further ahead than what he was now doing. ‘I dunno. Maybe spend the afternoon with you and Holly and Lizzie.’

‘Holly’s gone out with her friends.’ She looked back at him with a knowing little smile. ‘But I’m sure you and Elizabeth will have lots to talk about.’

‘Yeah, right.’ His relationship with his older sister was brittle enough at the best of times, and since she would certainly have called their father for a report on the previous night, Eddie didn’t doubt that she would have plenty to say on the matter. ‘But I don’t want to just abandon you.’

‘Oh, don’t be silly! You don’t have to hang around all day with an old goose like me. There must be other people you can see while you’re here. What about your friend, the Scottish gentleman?’

‘Mac?’ Nan had met him on a couple of occasions, most recently a party to celebrate Eddie and Nina’s first wedding anniversary.

‘Yes, him. He was very charming. Where does he live?’

‘London.’

‘Well, that’s less than two hours away on the train. You should call him.’

Eddie considered it. ‘You know, I think I will.’

‘You see? Your old nan still knows what’s best. You should always find the time to catch up with your friends – you never know when you’ll see them next.’ She pointed again, this time to a scenic overlook. ‘Oh, Edward, can you take me over there? It’s one of my favourite spots.’

At the height of the summer holiday season the clifftop was thronged with tourists, but people were good-natured enough to clear a space for an old lady in a wheelchair. ‘Will you help me up?’ she asked Eddie.

‘You’re supposed to stay in the chair, Nan.’

‘I’m not a cripple, Edward. Come on, give me a hand.’ She pushed herself from the seat.

Reluctantly, Eddie helped her to her feet, aware how light and fragile she felt in contrast to the firm and busy figure from his childhood. It was evidently a struggle, as she took several heavy breaths and forced back a cough, but she managed to stand and lean against the fence. ‘Thank you. Oh, look at that! Isn’t it lovely?’

It was indeed quite a sight. The air was clear, providing a panoramic view along the coast to Poole Harbour and beyond. The sea glittered under the noon sun, the long beach dotted with hundreds of sunbathers. Seagulls drifted lazily overhead, gliding on the warm rising air. ‘Yeah, it is,’ Eddie agreed, the view lifting his mood.

Nan regarded it in silence for some time, taking the sun on her face, before eventually lowering herself back into the chair. Eddie helped her sit. She coughed again, harder, then cleared her throat. ‘I’m glad I got to see it again. Especially with you. I do like the sea. You know, I’ve told Elizabeth that when I go, that’s where I want my ashes to be scattered.’

Eddie didn’t like the new turn in the conversation at all. ‘You can see it again whenever you want, Nan. And I’ll be back to see it with you before too long, don’t you worry.’

‘Oh, I’m not worried about me, Edward. I’ve had a good run. But your old nan is . . . well, starting to fall apart.’ She tapped the oxygen mask. ‘I don’t want to hang around if I have to be tubed up in some hospital. I’d rather just fall asleep and never wake up.’

He had heard her say similar things before, but always jokily. This time, though, it was almost in resignation. ‘Don’t talk like that, Nan. You’ll be around for a long time yet.’

She smiled up at him. ‘You’re a good lad, Edward, thank you. But I’ve done everything I wanted. I’ve got grandchildren, I’ve got great-grandchildren, and about the only thing I still want is to see you and Nina give me another one.’

‘Not sure when that’ll be,’ said Eddie, ‘but if that’s what it takes to make sure you don’t go anywhere, then I’ll see what we can do.’

Another smile behind the mask. ‘That’s nice. But it’s your world now. Nobody should stay around past their time.’

Her words made Eddie’s throat tighten as though he was being choked. He looked away, following his grandmother’s gaze across the peaceful sea.

Nina didn’t need the satellite navigation system of Macy’s rented Range Rover Evoque to tell her how far they were from their destination. The tiered hump of Glastonbury Tor, the ruined tower of a medieval church atop the green hill, stood out for miles on the plain of farmland surrounding it. ‘There it is.’

‘Good,’ Macy replied. ‘I didn’t know driving in England would be so stressy.’ After being stuck behind a slow-moving horsebox for several miles, she had finally lost patience and blasted past it on a near-blind corner, to Nina’s armrest-clutching dismay.

‘Because of being on the wrong side?’

‘That, and these roads.’ She jabbed a manicured finger at the winding lane ahead. ‘I’ve used Scotch tape that’s wider! And what’s with all the twists and turns? Did the Brits lose straight line technology after the Romans left?’

Nina smiled. ‘Well, not much farther now. And I think you’ll find Glastonbury relaxing. I know I did.’

‘Didn’t you get chased and shot at?’

‘I meant apart from that!’

Before long, they arrived at the Tor. There had been changes since Nina’s previous visit; following her discovery of King Arthur’s tomb beneath the hill, a large part of the southeastern face was now fenced off, portable cabins acting as headquarters and labs for the ongoing dig.

They were met by the archaeological team’s leader, Dr William Barley. The elderly man wore thick round glasses and had a pipe clenched between his teeth. ‘Dr Wilde, welcome. A great honour to have you here.’

‘Thank you,’ Nina replied. ‘This is my assistant, Macy Sharif.’

‘Very good to meet you,’ said Barley. ‘Now, Dr Wilde, you said your visit was a potential security matter?’

‘That’s right,’ said Nina, removing the case containing the two statuettes from the Evoque, as well as a larger one which she presented to Macy, who stared at it uncomprehendingly before realising she was expected to carry it and grudgingly taking it. ‘The IHA came into possession of artefacts that may have a connection to Glastonbury.’

Barley sucked wetly on his pipe stem. ‘Not sure what to think about this cloak and dagger business you have at the IHA. I can understand keeping things quiet to stop treasure hunters, but it’s hard to imagine how anything found in an archaeological site could pose any risks to global security.’

‘You’d be surprised,’ said Nina. ‘Can we see the tomb?’

‘Of course. This way.’ Barley plodded to the tomb entrance, which was now covered by a wood and brick structure watched by CCTV cameras. He unlocked the door to reveal a narrow tunnel leading down into the heart of the Tor. Apart from the addition of a string of electric lights, it was just as Nina remembered finding it two years earlier, the Roman numerals inscribed into one of the stone supports marking the year of its construction: 1191 AD. The monks of Glastonbury Abbey had secretly excavated the tomb and moved the bodies of Arthur and Guinevere – and Arthur’s legendary sword, Excalibur – to a new resting place to prevent their abbey’s greatest treasures from being plundered.

She also remembered other things she had discovered within. ‘You’ve, ah, found all the death traps, I hope?’

Barley chortled. ‘No need to worry, Dr Wilde. Everything’s been made safe.’

‘Glad to hear it! Okay, if you’ll lead the way?’

He knocked out his pipe against the wall before picking his way down the steep tunnel, Nina and Macy following. At the bottom of the incline was the start of a literal maze, one of the tomb’s defences, but Barley led them briskly through it. Past the statue of the Lady of the Lake, down through what on Nina’s first visit had been a flooded labyrinth, up into a foul-smelling space where a great grinning relief of Merlin once marked an explosive end for the unwary, and finally into the vaulted chamber of the tomb itself. The side room containing the black stone coffins of Arthur and his queen was open.

Macy took it in with awe. ‘Wow, this is incredible. I only saw pictures before – didn’t think I’d get to see it for real.’

‘Working for the IHA has its perks,’ Nina joked. She became more serious as she examined the object between the coffins. It was a cube of granite, three feet to a side, with a narrow slot in the top from which Excalibur had once protruded – and a chunk sliced from one corner where she had inadvertently discovered that in the right hands, Arthur’s weapon was more than a mere sword.

‘So, what are these artefacts?’ Barley asked. Nina opened the case. The British scientist seemed underwhelmed by the figurines within. ‘I don’t recognise them.’

‘Nor do we – and that’s the problem. I’m hoping that bringing them here will prove . . . illuminating.’

Nina hadn’t planned on making a pun, but couldn’t resist. She touched one of the statuettes. As she had hoped, the tomb was still a confluence point for lines of earth energy – and whatever it was about her that had allowed Excalibur to slice effortlessly through solid stone now caused the figurine to light up with an eerie indigo glow.

‘Good God!’ cried Barley.

Macy’s response was much the same. ‘Whoa!’ she yelped, flinching back. ‘It’s not radioactive, is it?’

Nina lifted her finger from the statue, and the glow vanished. ‘Open the case, and we’ll find out.’

Macy was about to put the case on Arthur’s coffin when a stammered protest from Barley prompted her to switch to the granite block. She opened it, and Nina took out a piece of equipment. ‘Geiger counter,’ she explained. ‘Macy, you hold it while I touch the statue again.’

Macy held the counter at arm’s length, cringing as the figurine lit up. Nothing came from the machine except the intermittent crackles of normal background radiation. ‘I wish you’d checked that first, before maybe zapping us with gamma rays,’ she complained.

‘What causes that glow?’ Barley asked, stepping closer.

‘It’s a phenomenon called earth energy,’ said Nina, ‘but as for exactly how it works, I can’t tell you. Not because it’s classified – although it is – but because I genuinely don’t understand it myself. I’m not a physicist. All I know are its effects.’

‘Which are . . . ?’

‘Classified.’

Barley sighed. ‘I suspected as much.’

Nina placed the first statue on the block, then took the other from the case. It too reacted in the same way to her touch, filling the chamber with an unnatural light. But she noticed something as she put the second figure down beside the first: the effect was not uniform.

Macy saw it too. ‘It’s brighter on the side facing the other one – like it’s responding to it.’

Nina picked up the second statuette again and slowly moved it in a circle round the first. There was indeed a somewhat stronger band of light on one side of the figure, which changed position as the stone was moved, so that it always shone in the direction of the statue’s near-twin. ‘Like holding a magnet to a compass,’ Barley mused.

‘There’s a compass in the case,’ Nina said. ‘Macy, get it out; we’ll see if it’s some kind of magnetic effect.’

It wasn’t, the needle unmoving. Nina picked up both statues experimentally, wondering if each would show a bright band when they were aglow. They did, pointing towards each other no matter the figures’ relative positions. Whatever caused the earth energy effect, whoever made the two statuettes had found a practical use for it – if somebody who could utilise the phenomenon had one statue in their possession, they could use it to find the other.

But there was something else – another, barely discernible line of increased illumination on each. Whatever this pointed towards, it was unmoving. Still holding the statues, she walked back and forth across the chamber in the hope of spotting a parallax effect. None was evident. The cause was apparently some distance away.

‘What if it’s the third statue?’ Macy suggested.

‘There’s another one?’ Barley asked.

‘Yes – they fit together.’ Nina returned to the block and slotted the statues together, arms interlocking. This time, there was a change: the two lines merged into one, much brighter, still pointing in the direction of the fainter bands she had seen moments before.

She turned the linked figures. The glow remained stationary, the band of light rippling over the crude carved features as she rotated them. It was a pointer. One that led to the missing third of the triptych.

But what was the statues’ purpose, and who had created them?

Nina let go, the illumination instantly vanishing. Macy tapped at the figurines, but nothing happened. Barley warily followed suit, with the same lack of result. ‘It’s only you, Dr Wilde,’ he said.

‘Must be my electrifying personality.’ Silence. ‘Oh come on, that was funny.’

‘Mm,’ said Macy, not quite a ringing endorsement. ‘Touch it again – I want to check something.’ Nina brought her hand back to the statues and the strange light returned. Macy held the compass above the glowing figures, taking a bearing. ‘So it’s pointing . . . just about exactly southwest. If there really is a third statue, it’s somewhere that way.’

‘Southwest . . . ’ Nina echoed. She turned to Barley. ‘Do you have a globe?’

The Tor’s Arthurian archaeological team did not in fact have a globe of the world to hand, but they had the next best thing; a virtual equivalent on Barley’s computer. ‘Are you sure you want to rule out any potential sites in the UK?’ he asked in response to Nina’s request for him to zoom out. ‘Dartmoor alone has over eight hundred Neolithic and Bronze Age sites, and that’s southwest of here.’

‘I have a hunch that we’re looking for something more far-flung,’ she said. ‘The first statue was found on another continent - in a chamber that was sealed centuries before the start of the European Bronze Age.’

The image on the screen pulled back more and more, until the Earth’s curvature appeared at the edges of the screen. Nina followed a line running diagonally down and to the left from Glastonbury, at the map’s centre. Though it passed close to the Azores, out in the Atlantic, it didn’t touch land until it reached South America, visible only as a line of green along the very edge of the visible hemisphere. ‘Can you switch it to a cartographic view?’

Barley fussed with the controls. The image changed, continents distorting as they morphed from a three-dimensional representation to a flat one. The line now made landfall near the great delta of the Orinoco river, on the continent’s northern coast. ‘Venezuela?’ said Macy.

‘And Colombia. And Brazil, and Peru,’ Nina added, following the line southwest through more countries until it reached the Pacific.

‘Rather a lot of ground to cover,’ said Barley. ‘And I think you’ll find Dartmoor a lot easier to reach!’

‘The best sites are always in the worst places . . . ’ She regarded the map. South America: home to numerous ancient civilisations. Could one have possessed the third statue? It was possible. But which – and why?

She thanked Barley, gently reminding him of the need for discretion, and headed back to the Range Rover with Macy. ‘So what now?’ Macy asked.

‘I don’t know. Like Dr Barley said, there’s a lot of ground to cover. And we don’t have a distance, only a direction.’

There was one thing she was sure of, though. Ancient artefacts that could conduct earth energy definitely fell within the IHA’s remit. If there was a third statue somewhere in South America, it was up to her to find it.

Before anyone else did.

Eddie put a pint of beer and a whisky on the table. ‘There you go.’

‘Thanks,’ said Mac, leaning forward to pick up his glass. His left leg creaked faintly, metal and plastic rather than flesh and bone; he had lost the limb from the knee down in Afghanistan. He took a sip of whisky, then looked round the sunlit beer garden. ‘Nice afternoon for a trip to the seaside. I’m glad you called – it was looking to be a rather boring day otherwise.’

‘Any excuse to get out of work, right?’ said Eddie, grinning.

‘Hmph. I wish. The jobs from Vauxhall Cross seem to be drying up of late.’

Vauxhall Cross in London was the location of the headquarters of Britain’s Secret Intelligence Service, better known as MI6. Since his retirement from the military, Mac had on occasion worked for the agency as what was euphemistically described as a ‘consultant’, even though some of his operations had been very hands-on. ‘Really?’ said Eddie. ‘Alderley not appreciating you, is he? Miserable sod. After everything you’ve done for him . . . ’

Mac shook his head. ‘Peter’s not the problem. It’s more that everything I’ve got to offer – contacts, local knowledge, intel . . . it’s all getting a bit out of date. The whole world’s moving on, Eddie, and when you’re not at the centre of things you start to get left behind, unfortunately.’ A small sigh, then his expression changed to one of curiosity. ‘And speaking of being left behind, you seem to have been abandoned by your other half. Where’s Nina today?’

‘Glastonbury. Work stuff.’

‘And you’re not with her?’ Eddie’s lack of an immediate response told his friend volumes. ‘Things all right with the two of you?’

‘Just having a rough patch,’ the Yorkshireman admitted. ‘You know what it’s like. Everything seems to end up in an argument. And we had a pretty big one last night.’

‘About what?’

‘My dad. We had dinner with him and his wife, and . . . it could’ve gone better.’

‘You actually met him?’ Mac was surprised. ‘A long time since that last happened.’

‘Twenty-odd years, yeah. Lizzie basically tricked me into it. I would’ve told him to f*ck off when he invited us to dinner, but Nina insisted that we go. And that turned out f*cking brilliantly. He hasn’t changed – he’s still an arsehole.’

‘Hrmm.’

Eddie eyed the older man. ‘Hrmm what?’

‘Oh, nothing.’

‘Bollocks, nothing. That wasn’t a “that’s interesting” hrmm or an “I need to think about this” hrmm – that was a “you’re being an idiot but it’s not my place to comment” hrmm. What?’

‘Well, since you ask,’ said Mac, sitting up with a faint smile, ‘I don’t think you’re an idiot—’

‘Cheers, always good to know.’

‘—but I know you well enough to imagine that . . . well, perhaps he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t changed.’

‘You saying I’m an arsehole?’

The smile reappeared. ‘Never crossed my mind,’ said Mac, before his face became more serious. ‘But he made the first move – he was the one who put out his hand.’

‘So?’

‘So he was trying to have some sort of reconciliation, at least. Apparently it didn’t go well, but still, he made the effort.’

‘Doesn’t mean that I should’ve been all fawning and grateful.’

‘I’m not saying that. I know there are some rather large issues between the two of you. But it could be worth trying to deal with them while you have the chance.’

The older man’s tone made Eddie suspect there was more behind his words than he was saying. ‘Sounds like something that’s been on your mind.’

A silence, then: ‘It has,’ Mac admitted. ‘I got in touch with Angela recently.’

‘After so long? You’ve been divorced for, what, seven years?’

‘Eight. But we met up a couple of months ago. It went rather well, actually.’

‘Are you thinking about getting back together?’ asked Eddie in surprise.

‘No, nothing like that – it’s been too long, too much water under the bridge. But it was . . . nice. It reminded me how much we had in common. And in all honesty, the older I get, the more I’ve realised how easy it is to lose contact with people. You can’t rely on them just being there any more – you have to make an effort. It might be hard, but it can be worth it.’

‘And you reckon I should make an effort with my dad?’

Mac took another drink. ‘Just a thought.’

‘It might get Nina off my back, I suppose.’ Eddie’s phone rang; he recognised the ringtone. ‘Speak of the devil . . .’ He answered it. ‘Hey, love. Where are you?’

‘Just leaving Glastonbury with Macy,’ said Nina. ‘Heading back to Bournemouth.’

‘Did you find anything interesting?’

‘You could say that.’ Enthusiasm was clear in her voice. ‘We need to get back to New York. I think we’re going to be busy.’