“Not hardly,” Stephanie said. “I’m still baffled. All of this is over two thousand years old. Wouldn’t anything that existed have been found by now?”
Ely shrugged. “Hard to say. Let’s face it, the clues have not been out in the open. It took X-ray fluorescence to find the important stuff.”
“But Zovastina wants it. Whatever it is.”
Ely nodded. “In her mind, which I always thought was a little weird, she’s Alexander, or Achilles, or some other epic hero. It’s a romantic vision she seems to enjoy. A quest. She believes there might be some sort of cure out there. She talked about that a lot. That was most important to her, but I don’t know why.” Ely paused. “I won’t say that it wasn’t important to me, too. Her enthusiasm became infectious. I actually started to believe there might be something to find.”
She could see he was troubled by all that had happened, so she offered, “You might be right.”
“That would be amazing, wouldn’t it?”
“But how could there be any connection between St. Mark and Alexander the Great?” Thorvaldsen asked.
“We know that Alexander’s body was in Alexandria up to 391 CE, when paganism was finally outlawed. But there’s no mention of it ever again, anywhere, after that. St. Mark’s body reappears in Alexandria around 400 CE. Remember, pagan relics were routinely adopted for Christian purposes.
“There are lots of examples I’ve read about from Alexandria. A bronze idol of Saturn in the Caesareum was melted down to cast a cross for the patriarch of Alexandria. The Caesareum itself became a Christian cathedral. My theory, from reading everything I could on St. Mark and Alexander, was that some fourth-century patriarch conceived a way to not only preserve the corpse of the city’s founder, but to furnish Christianity with a potent relic. A win/win. So Alexander simply became St. Mark. Who’d know the difference?”
“Sounds like a long shot,” she said.
“I don’t know. You tell me Ptolemy left something in that mummy in the basilica that led you straight here. I’d say theory is now firmly entrenched in reality.”
“He’s right,” Thorvaldsen said. “It’s worth going south to take a look.”
She didn’t necessarily agree, but any place was preferable to here. At least they’d be on the move. But something occurred to her. “You said the area where Klimax is located is now privately owned. We could have trouble gaining access.”
Ely smiled. “Maybe the new owner will let us have a look around.”
Malone 3 - The Venetian Betrayal
SEVENTY-FIVE
MALONE WAS TRAPPED. HE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN. VIKTOR HAD led him straight to Zovastina.
“Come to save Ms. Vitt?”
He still held the gun.
Zovastina motioned. “Who do you plan to kill? Choose between the three of us.” She pointed at her guardsmen. “One of them will shoot you before you can shoot the other.” She displayed her knife. “And then I’ll cut these ropes.”
All true. His options were limited.
“Take him,” she ordered the guards.
One of the men rushed forward, but a new sound captured Malone’s attention. Baying. Growing louder. The guard was ten feet away when goats rushed from the other path that led back to the buzkashi field. First a few, then the entire herd exploded into the clearing.
Hooves thumped the earth.
Malone spotted Viktor atop a horse, keeping the oversized animals bunched, trying not to break their advance. A lumbering pace increased into a rush, the rear shoving the front, forcing the confused goats forward. Their unexpected appearance seemed to generate the desired effect. The guards were momentarily confused and Malone used that instant to shoot the one in front of him.
Another pop and the second guard dropped to the ground.
Malone saw that Viktor had fired the shot.
The goats crowded the clearing, milling into one another, still baffled, slowly realizing the only way out was through the trees.
Dust stirred the air.
Malone spotted Zovastina and pushed his way through the stinking animals toward her and Cassiopeia.
The herd retreated into the woods.
He arrived just as Viktor slid from the saddle, gun in hand. Zovastina stood with her knife, but Viktor was holding her at bay, a few feet from the ropes that anchored the two bent trees.
“Drop the knife,” Viktor said.
Zovastina seemed shocked. “What are you doing?”
“Stopping you.” Viktor motioned with his head. “Free her, Malone.”
“Tell you what,” Malone said. “You free Cassiopeia and I’ll keep an eye on the minister.”
“Still don’t trust me?”
“Let’s just say I prefer to do this my way.” He raised his gun. “Like he said, drop the knife.”
“Or what?” Zovastina said. “You’ll shoot me?”
He fired into the ground, between her legs, and she recoiled. “The next one’s in your head.”
She released the knife.
“Kick it this way.”
She did.
“What are you doing here?” Cassiopeia asked him.
“I owed you. Goats?” he said to Viktor, as the other man untied Cassiopeia.
“You use what you have. Seemed like a good diversion.”
He couldn’t argue.
“You work for the Americans?” Zovastina asked Viktor.
“That’s right.”
Fire boiled in her eyes.
Cassiopeia shook the ropes free and lunged toward Zovastina, swinging her fist and catching the other woman square in the face. A kick to the knees and Zovastina stumbled back. Cassiopeia continued her attack, planting her foot into Zovastina’s stomach and slamming the woman’s head into the trunk of one of the trees.
Zovastina shrunk to the ground and lay still.
Malone had calmly watched the assault. “You get all that out of your system?”
Cassiopeia breathed hard. “I could have given her more.” She paused, rubbing her wrists from the ropes. “Ely’s alive. I talked to him on the phone. Stephanie and Henrik are with him. We need to go.”
Malone faced Viktor. “I thought Washington wanted your cover protected?”
“I had no choice.”