Age of Heroes (42 page)

THIRTY-FIVE

Kardionisi

T
HEO SWAPPED SILK
pyjamas for his daywear and raced next door to Chase’s guest cottage, tucking the Glock 9mm into his waistband as he went.

Chase didn’t answer his knock, so he let himself in.

His cousin was nowhere to be seen. A bottle of Jack Daniel’s and a tumbler rested on the marble coffee table in the middle of the room; Chase had sat up to drink a nightcap and watch some TV. The bed, however, looked as though it had not been slept in. Chase was a slob. Every time he stayed at Theo’s, Theo had to go round picking up after him, putting damp towels back on the drying rail, wringing out washcloths he’d used, hanging up the clothes he left strewn on the floor. It drove him nuts. Chase would not have left the bed as tightly immaculate as this one was. Never in a million years.

Theo felt a pinch of disquiet in his stomach. Where had he got to?

He headed round to Sasha’s guest cottage. It was, he felt, just conceivable that his cousin had gone to visit her. There was friction between the two of them, and Sasha did not hold Chase in the highest esteem. Yet Chase had his ways. He could switch on that boyish, winning smile of his and swerve past almost anyone’s defences with it. Drunk, horny and ambitious, he might well have tried to put the moves on Sasha, and there was the possibility – the very remote possibility – that he might have succeeded.

Sasha came to the door in a dressing-gown, sleepy-eyed, wary.

“Theo? What – ?”

“Are you alone?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” The penny dropped. “No. Seriously? You think Chase and I...? You honestly think I would even...?”

“Sorry. It’s just, he’s not in his cottage, and they’re coming.”

“Who are coming? The Myrmidons?”

“The Myrmidons. Roy Young texted me a few moments ago. They’re heading here. They may even be on the island already.”

“To kill who?”

“Me.”

“How do they know where you are?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Arlington; Gottlieb. I was right all along. One or other of those two has called them in. Whichever it is, he must think I’m trapped, vulnerable.”

“Then we’ll have to disabuse him of that notion,” Sasha said. “Give me a minute.”

She returned shortly, dressed. Her phone was in her hand and she was scowling.

“What’s up?”

“It’s strange. I can’t raise Rosalind and Melina. I’ve called them both, but neither’s replying.”

“Asleep?”

“They’d have their phones with them even so, right beside them.”

“On silent?”

“I should damn well hope not. They know I might need them at any hour. They should have picked up.”

The pinch in Theo’s stomach was becoming an ominous pang. “I hate to say it, but maybe the Myrmidons have got to them.”

“That’s what I’m thinking, or trying not to think. My Wonder Women are good, though. I train them myself. They’re not the sort you catch unawares easily.”

“The Myrmidons are no slouches either.”

“Damn it!” Sasha’s eyes flashed angrily in the dark. “I have to get down to the boat. I have to know what’s happened to them.”

“I agree. Also, that’s where the majority of our guns are stashed. There’s eleven Myrmidons and only two of us, and with just a single pistol each we’re outmatched. That’s not even taking into account the artefacts.”

“Eleven hitmen, just for you?”

“I know. I’m trying to look on it as a compliment. Mostly, though, it’s scaring the crap out of me. And I don’t know where Chase is, and that’s scaring the crap out of me too. He could be anywhere on the island and he has no idea that a massive shitstorm is on its way.”

“Theo. Calm down. Chase may be an idiot but he’s a dangerous idiot, especially in a tight spot. He can look after himself. You, meanwhile, have the Queen of the Amazons on your side. We’ve got this covered.”

For the first time since Sasha had swanned back into his life at Novy Tolkatui, Theo felt unconditionally grateful for her presence. He hoped it wasn’t just because Chase was missing and he was desperate to have someone – anyone – in his corner.

“Far as I’m aware, there’s only one way up onto the island,” he said. “The elevator. That’s how the Myrmidons will be getting up here. It’s also our only way down to the boat.”

“In other words, we’re bound to run into them somewhere between here and there.”

“Unless we’re sneaky. One advantage we have is that we know the lie of the land better than they do. If we’re careful we can avoid them.”

T
HEY FOLLOWED THE
island’s eastern perimeter from north to south, hugging close to its precipitous edge. The sea clashed and thrashed below, creamy white breakers throwing themselves against Kardionisi’s rocky flanks as they had done for eons, long before the place ever had a name. It was an hour or so after moonset, but the starlight was plentiful, more than enough to see by.

Suddenly Theo froze and went into a crouch, signalling Sasha to do the same. He had glimpsed figures silhouetted against the sky, threading through the gardens toward the main house. They were a couple of hundred metres away, but he was able to make out the distinctive profiles of their crested helmets. They walked stealthily, steadily, with purpose. He counted half a dozen of them before they were screened from view by some shrubbery.

As he and Sasha moved off again, he drew the Glock. It was cold and solid in his hand. He flicked off the safety catch. He would shoot if he had to, but only as a last resort. Gunfire would attract attention.

They arrived at the elevator some ten minutes later. Theo scanned the scene and straight away spied two Myrmidons, standing not far from the head of the funicular track. Sentries. There to prevent anyone getting off the island.

He reapplied the safety and slipped the gun – which he was coming to think of as
his
gun – back into his waistband. Then, turning to Sasha, he nodded at the two Myrmidons and put a finger to his lips. He made a fist. Sasha gave an ‘okay’ sign.

They crawled on all fours, side by side, using a ridge of rocks for cover. Soon they were within five metres of the sentries. A normal human could not leap that span of distance in a single bound from a standing start.

A demigod could.

Theo counted down on his fingers. Three. Two. One.

Simultaneously he and Sasha sprang.

They crashed down onto the Myrmidons from behind, flattening them. Theo yanked back the head of the one he was straddling, then slammed it face first into the ground. Neither of the Myrmidons was Roy Young. Theo knew that much. Not tall or lean enough to be Young. He and Sasha didn’t have to hold back.

It took a couple more impacts to render the Myrmidon insensible. Sasha dealt with her Myrmidon somewhat more brutally. A twist of the head, a crackle of snapping vertebrae – the assassin shuddered and lay still.

“Two down,” Theo whispered.

“Why didn’t you kill yours?” Sasha said. “He would never have shown you the same courtesy. Can we afford to be merciful to these people?”

“The guy’s out of commission. Won’t come round for a good long while. If I need to kill, I will, don’t worry.”

Sasha rummaged through the corpse’s weaponry and equipment. “What have we got here?” She tugged a short-handled hammer from a loop in the Myrmidon’s belt. “Hephaestus’s. Must be. You can feel the pounding when you hold it – metal being forged on an anvil. It reeks of furnaces and sweat.”

Theo held up a stubby wooden club which his Myrmidon had been carrying. “Dionysus’s. Feels like... stale wine and indolence. I doubt the god of revelry ever wielded it in anger. It was more a phallic symbol than anything.”

“You’d have thought he’d have made his phallic symbol a little more impressive.”

“It’s large enough to cosh someone with. There aren’t many men who can say that.”

Sasha grinned, looking genuinely amused, for once. In general she found something funny almost in spite of herself, as though it were an effort. But not this time.

“They gave these two the least effective of the artefacts,” Theo said. “Either nobody was expecting them to run into trouble...”

“Or they’re the two most expendable Myrmidons.”

They dragged the bodies – dead and unconscious – behind the rock ridge, out of sight. Then, artefacts in hand, they set off down to the jetty. Theo had spotted the service stairs earlier, during the daytime, and Sasha agreed that this was the quieter and more sensible way to descend.

At the bottom, they crossed over to the Sea Fox and stepped aboard. Sasha softly called out Rosalind’s and Melina’s names; there was no response. She bent down and grasped the handle of the door to the cabin.

The door opened only part-way inward before budging up against something. Sasha had to put her shoulder to it to shove it all the way open.

The obstacle was a body. Rosalind’s.

The Scottish Wonder Woman was lying diagonally across the cabin floor, face down. The coppery tang of spilled blood wafted out through the doorway, accompanied by a faint, dull whiff of decay.

Rosalind’s head had been caved in, the back of her skull sporting a tennis-ball-sized depression.

The other Wonder Woman, Melina, sat at the small fold-down table which nestled within the boat’s prow. Her head was canted back at an ugly angle, resting against the inside of the hull. A jagged crimson halo surrounded it. Her eyes were empty.

On the table there was a tray. Two plates of food sat untouched. Dolmades, spanakopita, stuffed tomatoes, feta salad, olives in garlic oil. A selection of the same meze the demigods had had for dinner.

“No...” Sasha breathed.

The Wonder Women had been dead for several hours, to judge by their pallor and rigidity.

And the duffel bags holding the guns?

Gone.

THIRTY-SIX

Kardionisi

A
FIGURE LOOMED
in the darkness.

At first Roy mistook it for one of the many statues dotting the grounds of the house, until he noticed its clothing was rippling in the night breeze.

He whipped out his handgun and took aim.

“Halt right there.”

The figure raised its hands. It was a woman. A woman in a chiffon-and-lace nightgown that clung to her body sinuously and suggestively.

“P-Please,” she stammered. “Please. Don’t hurt me.”

“Who are you?”

“Hélène. Hélène Arlington. I – I live here. This is my house.”

Hélène. Formerly Helen of Troy. And she was every bit as beautiful as the legends said.

But she was also one of
them
– a demigod.

Roy lowered the gun, but only a fraction. “Your husband owns this place, yeah?”

“Yes. Evander. Have... Have you come for him?”

“No.”

“Oh, thank heaven. He’s a very rich man. I always feared someone might try to kidnap him. I thought you –”

Laffoon stepped forward, brushing past Roy. He too had a gun out. “Lady, we’re looking for a guy name of Theo Stannard. You got five seconds to tell us where he is or I plant a bullet in you.”

“Theo? You want Theo?”

“Clock’s ticking.”

“He’s... I can show you where he is. I can take you right to him. Just please don’t kill me.”

“Cool.” Laffoon looked at Roy. “See? That’s how it’s done. None of this tea-and-scones chitchat. Cut the shit. Get to the point.”

“The guest cottages,” Hélène said. “They’re just along here.”

“Wait,” said Roy.

“Jee-zus!” Laffoon hissed.

“Just a second. Mrs Arlington, it’s four in the morning. Why are you outside?”

“I’m not a good sleeper,” she replied. Her smile, though forced and tentative, was still entrancing. “I wake up at odd hours. Sometimes a quick turn round the garden helps. Fresh air, peace and quiet. It’s a beautiful night for a stroll, isn’t it?”

“We ain’t here to admire the weather,” Laffoon said. “Get your ass moving.”

“All right. All right.” She turned. On slippered feet she led the Myrmidons along a path. Laffoon followed her so closely, the two of them could almost have been dancing.

R
OUNDING A CORNER
, they came within sight of a row of small cubic buildings. Hélène Arlington halted and pointed.

“He’s in one of those, I don’t know which. I didn’t bring him down here. That was Ioannis’s job. Ioannis is our major domo.”

“Okay,” said Roy. “Everyone, two groups of four. Take it door by door. One group start at that end, the other the other. I’m staying with Mrs Arlington. Someone needs to look out for her in case all hell breaks loose.”

“Make that two groups of
three
,” said Laffoon. “Shitkicker and I are staying with Mrs Arlington too.”

Outwardly Roy shrugged; inwardly, he groaned. Whatever he said, however he organised things, it was clear Badenhorst’s pair of obedient little lapdogs weren’t going to leave him alone. He only hoped Stannard was elsewhere by now. If the man had any sense, he’d have hightailed it out of his guest cottage and holed up someplace with sightlines and more than one exit, someplace defensible.