Murder on Olympus (15 page)

39

The following afternoon I got a call from Magus, who told me that my order was ready. After work, I swung by the Ammo Crate to pick up my osmium rounds.

“What’s up, Unc?” I asked as I walked through the door.

Magus was behind the counter doing a crossword puzzle. He looked up and smiled. “Hey.”

“You’ve got something for me?”

“I do.” Magus reached under the counter and brought up a sealed cardboard box. He sliced it open with his box cutter.

Inside were ten small red boxes, all of them unmarked. I opened one. It was filled with lustrous blue-gray bullets. I nodded and closed it.

“You good?” Magus asked.

“Yep.” I handed him my debit card and he rang me up.

“You know, someone else came in here the other day and ordered some osmium bullets,” Magus said, giving the card back to me, along with a receipt. “Fifty boxes.”

My eyes widened. “Fifty boxes?”

He nodded. “He said he needed them as soon as possible.”

“How much did that run him?”

“A little over a quarter million.”

“Wow!”

“I asked him why he needed so many. He claimed that he and his friends were going on a chimera hunt. I wasn’t convinced.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“He was a little too jittery.”

“Maybe he was just excited.”

“Maybe.”

I picked up the cardboard box.

“You’re leaving already?” Magus asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m meeting someone this evening.”

Magus raised an eyebrow. “That someone wouldn’t happen to be a woman, would it?”

I smiled. “I wish.”

After leaving the Ammo Crate, I drove across town to pay Hades a surprise visit. The last time I’d seen him was about nine years ago, while I was still with the OBI. One of his prized Cerberuses had escaped its cage, and was running amuck all over the city. Hades went to Zeus, who ordered me and the other agents to track down the beast and return it to its owner. Four agents had been eaten and another three wounded before we finally completed the mission.

Hades showed his appreciation by throwing us a lavish party at the New Olympia Civic Center. I couldn’t make it because Alexis and I were celebrating our anniversary that night. But it was just as well. I heard things got out of hand, and several people had to be sent to the hospital. No one would tell me exactly what happened. I didn’t want to know.

Hades lived in a subterranean complex beneath Mount Olympus. The only way in was by elevator. On my way down, screams of horror issued from the various floors. An indication of things to come? I hoped not.

By the time I reached the bottom level, the screaming had stopped. The elevator doors parted to reveal a magnificent foyer. The floors were marble, the walls cream, and a chandelier sparkled overhead, throwing flecks of gold light. Twin staircases led to a balcony on the second floor.

I stepped out of the elevator and was met by a minotaur with gray fur and black horns. He wore a hunter-green suit and an earpiece.

“Plato Jones?” he said.

“Uh, yes.”

“The master is expecting you. Come with me.”

The God of the Underworld was expecting me? That couldn’t be good.

I followed the minotaur upstairs to Hades’s office. The space was large and inviting, with warm colors and sumptuous leather furnishings. It would have been perfect if not for the ghastly paintings on the walls. One depicted a man in a loincloth being impaled on a stake. Another showed a fire-breathing dragon burning a group of people alive. But the worst, by far, was of a woman eating a baby. I don’t think I’ll ever understand rich people and their fondness for the bizarre.

Hades was practicing his golf swing on an indoor putting green. His light-blue sweater-vest looked like it had been ripped straight out of
Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood
. Khaki slacks and a pair of sensible loafers completed the look. His blond hair was slicked down and parted in the middle. He smiled at me, flashing straight white teeth.

“Good evening, Mr. Jones.” His voice was creepily low and gentle.

“Same to you.”

Hades put aside his putter and raised the window blinds. On the other side of the glass was a picture of a beautiful countryside. Artificial light flooded the room.

He sat down behind his desk. “Please, sit.”

I sat on the couch.

Hades sat in silence for a while, smiling at me. It was a pleasant smile. Unsettlingly pleasant. Like Zeus, he emitted power. But his was different than his brother’s. It felt conscious—a dark presence looming behind me, silent and observant.

“Can I offer you something to drink?” he asked.

My first instinct was to say no. But declining the hospitality of a God was never a good idea. Besides, I was in a unique position. Hades normally offered his guests fire, chains, and torment.

I shrugged. “Why not?”

As if on cue, the door opened and Persephone, the Goddess of Spring and Queen of the Underworld, strolled into the office, bringing with her the smell of wildflowers. It might have just been my imagination, but all the potted plants in the room seemed to sway in her direction.

In a white sundress with red flowers, and red heels, she looked like a sixteen-year-old on her way to a picnic. Her blond hair sported a poodle cut, and her makeup was a little too perfect. She carried a pitcher of lemonade in one hand while balancing a tray of cookies in the other.

“Hello, sweetheart,” she said cheerily.

“Hello, dear. Are those oatmeal cookies I smell?”

“They sure are.”

“Splendid.”

These two couldn’t be serious. I glanced back and forth between them. They
were
serious.

Persephone set the pitcher and tray on the coffee table. She kissed Hades on the lips and then fetched two glasses from the minibar.

“Dear, you remember Mr. Jones, don’t you?” Hades said. “He used to work for my brother a few years back.”

“Of course.” Persephone poured me a glass of lemonade. Her blue eyes were wide and unblinking. Her smile looked painted on. “How are you, Mr. Jones?”

“Ask me again in a few minutes,” I said.

Hades laughed, shaking his finger at me. “Oh, Mr. Jones.”

“Have a cookie, Mr. Jones,” Persephone offered. “They’re to die for.”

I’ll bet. “Thank you very much.”

I picked up a cookie, a small one, and put the whole thing into my mouth. It was grainy and crunchy. All I could taste was sugar. Pure, unbridled sugar. Hades and Persephone went as still as mannequins. They stared at me as I chewed. The intensity in their eyes made swallowing difficult.

“What do you think?” Hades asked.

I returned a shaky smile. “Delicious.”

The tension in the room disappeared. Persephone touched her chest and let out a breathless laugh. “I’m so relieved. I was worried you wouldn’t like them.”

I shook my head vigorously. “Oh no,” I lied. “I love exceedingly sweet things.” Especially on an empty stomach.

“You simply must try the lemonade next,” she said.

I did as she asked. I was afraid not to. The lemonade was like cold corn syrup with a dash of lemon. One sip nearly sent me into diabetic shock.

“Well?” Persephone asked. She stood on tiptoes as if too eager to stay still.

I smiled again, struggling not to wretch. “Best lemonade I’ve ever had.”

Persephone beamed and put her hands on her hips. “Mr. Jones, you’ve just gone and made my day. How would you like to stay for dinner?”

I smiled apologetically. “Maybe next time.”

Persephone stared at me for a long moment, silent and unmoving. It was as if a circuit in her head had blown. Finally she said, “Yes . . . next time.”

“Dear,” Hades cut in politely. “Do you think you could give us a moment? Mr. Jones and I have important matters to discuss.”

“Of course.”

“Wonderful.”

“I love you,” Persephone said.

“I love you too, schnookums.”

Persephone turned and literally skipped out of the room. The door closed behind her. I tried not to gape.

Hades jabbed his thumb toward the door. “Great girl, isn’t she?”

“Sure.”

He took a cigar out of his desk drawer. “Would you like one?”

I shook my head. “No thanks.”

He put the cigar in his mouth and searched his pockets for a lighter—but didn’t find it. I was about to offer mine when he touched the tip of the cigar with his index finger. The cigar ignited with a tiny spark.

Neat trick.

Hades exhaled a puff of smoke and sank back into his chair.

“How did you know I’d be coming?”

Hades smiled patronizingly.

“Then you also know why I’m here?”

He nodded. “It’s a shame what happened to my darling niece and nephew.” He took another pull from his cigar, held the smoke in his mouth for several seconds, and then blew it out in a stream. “Are you sure you won’t have a cigar?”

“Positive,” I said.

“Let me know if you change your mind.”

“I’ll do that. In the meantime, why don’t you tell me a story?” I leaned forward and waited.

“I’m afraid I’m not very good at telling stories,” Hades said.

I waited some more. He puffed his cigar.

“What have you been up to this past month?” I asked.

Still smiling, Hades placed his cigar in the ashtray. When he spoke, he sounded more apologetic than insulted. “I know where you’re going with this, Mr. Jones, and I’m afraid my answer might disappoint you.”

“Try me.”

“I’ve been here.”

That answer came as no surprise. Hades was the most reclusive of all the Gods, even more so than Hephaestus had been. He rarely left his estate.

“For the entire month?” I asked anyway.

He nodded. “I’ve been overseeing the construction of a special project.”

“What kind of special project?”

“I was having an arena installed in the dungeon. The missus says it’s a waste of money, but I think every male needs his own private getaway, a place where he can be himself. A man-cave, as you mortals call it. Would you like to see it?”

I shook my head decisively.

“Maybe another time then,” Hades said.

“Is there anyone besides your wife that can verify your story?”

Hades glanced at the ceiling, pondering. “There’s my staff and the construction crew.”

“I’d like written statements from each of them.”

“Of course. Is there anything else you’d like to know?”

“Yes. After Eileithyia and Hephaestus died, did their souls pass through your realm?”

“I don’t believe so, but let me check.” Hades logged onto his computer and searched his files. “No, I’m afraid they haven’t been to my neck of the woods.”

Strange. I thought all departed souls went to Hades. Did that mean immortals don’t have souls?

“When was the last time you spoke with the victims?” I asked.

“Eileithyia and I hadn’t been on speaking terms in ages. The last time I spoke to Hephaestus was over a month ago. I wanted him to help with the construction effort. I figured the builders could benefit from his expertise.”

I waited for Hades to continue. He just looked at me. His blue eyes shone with an eerie emptiness. A chill raced through me.

“What did Hephaestus say?” I asked.

“He said he couldn’t help me. That he was preoccupied with an important project of his own.”

“Did he mention what this important project was?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Did he mention anything else?”

“Just that he wished Aphrodite loved him as much as he loved her.”

I nodded.

“Any more questions?” Hades asked.

“No, I think that’s all. Thanks for your time.”

“The pleasure was mine.”

I shook Hades’s hand and left the office. After our conversation, I had doubts about his involvement in the murders. At least
these
murders. But I knew better than to jump to conclusions. Until I confirmed Hades’s alibis, he was still in the running.

The minotaur escorted me back to the elevator. I pressed the up button and waited for the doors to open. Nothing happened.

I pressed the button again and crossed my arms. The doors remained closed. I turned to the minotaur, smiling through a clenched jaw. “There seems to be a problem with the elevator.”

“It looks all right to me,” he said.

I turned back around and hammered the button with my finger. Still nothing. From the corner of my eye, I glimpsed the minotaur pull a thin, metal baton from his coat.

That moment, instinct took over. I drew my gun and spun around. But before I could squeeze off a round, the minotaur lashed out with his baton. The blow caught me on the side of the head. An explosion of pain tore through my brain.

The world turned black.

40

Pain throbbed in my forehead. That was both good and bad. It meant I was still alive. But it also meant that I was in deep shit. I cracked open my eyes and discovered that I lay on my back, in the sand-filled pit of an indoor coliseum. The stone bleachers were empty, and massive lanterns hung from the rafters.

Strangely, I found none of this surprising. I pushed myself to a seated position. The movement made the pain in my head worse. I touched the side of my face and drew back fingers covered in blood. Another concussion. Great.

Hades appeared in the arena’s main viewing box. Persephone was with him, cradling a brown Cerberus pup in her arms. The three-headed dog was no bigger than a football, but would one day grow to the size of an elephant. Two of its heads nipped playfully at each other. The third looked to be asleep, its tongue hanging from the side of its mouth. Behind Hades and company stood the minotaur.

“Hello, Mr. Jones.” Hades’s voice echoed through the arena. “So glad to see you’re all right.”

“Hi!” Persephone said, making the pup wave at me with one of its little paws.

“What’s going on?” I demanded. “Where am I?”

“In my new arena. My man-cave. What do you think of it?” A grin stretched across Hades’s face.

“Why am I here?”

“To fight for your life, of course.”

My pulse quickened. I planted my hands on the floor and pushed myself to my feet. The world tilted back and forth. I held out my arms for balance. My stomach lurched with nausea. I took a deep breath and regained control.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked.

“To prove a point,” Hades said. “I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that my dear sister Hera isn’t very fond of you.”

Hera
, I thought.
I should’ve known.
“Yeah, I noticed.”

“She wants the investigation to be exclusively under OBI jurisdiction. No outside help, especially from a human. She thinks you’re incapable of getting the job done.”

“Incapable or unworthy?”

“Take your pick.” Hades’s eyes twinkling with laughter. “I, on the other hand, happen to disagree. I think you’re fully capable of solving this mystery.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said. “But that still doesn’t explain why I’m standing in the middle of this pit.”

“Hera and I have a wager. You’re going to battle one of my minions. If you die, Hera wins, and Zeus will be forced find a more fitting candidate to look into the murders. If you survive, I win. Hera will leave you alone, and the investigation will proceed according to Zeus’s plans.”

“Something tells me you have more to gain from this wager than the satisfaction of beating Hera.”

“You’re a sharp one, Mr. Jones.” Hades chuckled. “If you survive this trial, Hera will hand Athena’s Aegis over to me . . . after the killer has been brought to justice, of course.”

“What does the Aegis have to do with this?” I asked.

“Everything,” Hades said. “I’m concerned that my brother gave it to you. Whoever wears the Aegis becomes impervious to harm, able to cheat death. Able to cheat
me
. No mortal should ever possess such power.”

“Typical,” I said under my breath.

Hades must have heard me because his smile broadened. “Only Gods should be able to cheat death. The natural order of things must be preserved. You understand, don’t you?”

“Fear is pretty easy to understand.”

Hades’s smile faltered. “Don’t take this personally, Mr. Jones. It’s just business.”

“Right.” That made me feel so much better. The Gods were playing a game, and I was the pawn.

“Now then, let’s begin.” Hades clapped his hands.

The arena doors boomed open. At first, nothing happened. Then I heard footsteps. Big ones. Growing louder by the second.

I cursed inwardly as a cyclops lumbered through the doorway. He was at least twelve feet tall, grotesquely muscled, and naked except for a fur loincloth. His gray skin reminded me of bleached leather, and was covered in white scar tissue. His hand gripped a stone club as long as my body.

His stench hit me like a baseball to the nose. A vile mixture of musk, blood, and feces. I was betting he ate, slept, and crapped all in the same room.

The cyclops ambled toward me. I reached for my gun. It was missing.

“Looking for this?” Hades called down from the stands.

The minotaur held up my Desert Eagle, dangling it by two fingers. Bastard!

“Throw it here!” I shouted.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Hades said. “Hera and I agreed. No guns. They would give you too much of an advantage.”

“Oh, come on!” I protested. “How do you expect me to beat this guy? Throw sand at him?”

“Of course not.” Hades snapped his fingers.

The minotaur drew a knife and tossed it into the arena. It landed in the sand between me and the cyclops.

“A knife.” I gaped at it. “Are you kidding me?”

“Give us a good show,” Hades said.

“You can do it!” Persephone cheered.

The cyclops halted. His red eye glanced at the knife, and then anchored onto me. A growl oozed from a mouth filled with rotten teeth. He was challenging me to come and get the weapon.

I stayed right where I was. I knew a deathtrap when I saw one. The knife was lying within range of the cyclops’s club. There was no way I could grab it without getting squashed into jelly. My best option was to draw him away from it. Fortunately, cyclopses aren’t renowned for their intelligence. They are, however, known for their pride.

I laughed maniacally.

The cyclops tilted his head to one side, doglike. “What’s so funny?” he demanded. His voice was deep and guttural, like an animal trying to mimic human speech.

“You’re a little small for a cyclops, aren’t you?” I said.

The cyclops stiffened. “What did you say, human?”

“I said you’re small for a cyclops.” I glanced at his lower half. “And judging by the size of that loincloth, I’m sure all the female cyclopses would agree.”

“Now, Mr. Jones, that wasn’t very nice,” Hades shouted across the arena, a hint of humor in his voice.

The cyclops roared. Strands of spit flew from his mouth. When his shoulders hunched, I knew he was about to charge. The first step in my plan had worked. The next step required me to stay alive long enough to grab the knife.

I hunkered down. The cyclops charged. I waited until he got nice and close, and then dived out of the way. He rushed past me, his momentum driving him forward.

“Good job, Mr. Jones!” Persephone shouted.

I scrambled to my feet and made a break for the knife. A roar rose up behind me, followed by thunderous footsteps. I didn’t look back. Just kept running.

I grasped the knife and spun around to see the cyclops coming toward me. His club came zooming down.

I threw myself sideways. The club smashed into the floor, inches away from my foot. The impact roused a cloud of dust.

“Come here!” the cyclops roared.

He reached for me as I tried to get up. His massive hand closed around my waist and hoisted me into the air. I jammed the knife into his wrist, withdrew it, and then stabbed his forearm. Blood flew, spattering against me, dark as motor oil. The stink was overwhelming.

In the stands, Hades was clapping. The Cerberus pup started to howl. So did I. The cyclops was crushing me—I could feel my body collapsing into itself. I stabbed him again, in the wrist. The blade struck bone. He bellowed and tossed me aside.

I landed flat on my back. The air burst from my lungs. Spots of light momentarily danced before my eyes. I heard the cyclops coming for me. Felt the ground tremor beneath his footfalls. I rolled over and scrambled to my hands and knees. A massive shadow fell over me.

“Squash you!” The cyclops raised his club.

Breathless and dizzy, I did the only thing I could think of. I scooped up a handful of sand from the arena floor and threw it at his head. He grunted and spun away from me, clutching his face.

“A dirty move, Mr. Jones,” Hades said.

I drew a deep breath and wrestled to my feet. While the cyclops rubbed his eye, I slashed downward, slicing his Achilles tendon. His leg buckled and he collapsed on the arena floor. Blood gushed from the wound.

Hades’s voice rang out. “Brilliant!”

Unable to walk, the cyclops dropped his club and dragged himself toward me. He was squinting, his eye bloodshot. Clumps of wet sand clung to his lashes. I knew he couldn’t see me. I kept my distance until he finally gave up and dropped to the sand. He lay prone and still, except for the ragged rise and fall of his breathing.

“Bravo, Mr. Jones, bravo!” Hades said, clapping. He and Persephone rose to their feet. “My faith in you wasn’t misplaced. Now, finish off your opponent. Then we’ll head upstairs to celebrate.”

He turned and started toward the exit, which was marked by a neon EXIT sign.

I dropped the bloody knife. “No.”

Hades stopped and turned around. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not going to kill him.”

Hades looked as if he might laugh. “Are you refusing me, Mr. Jones?”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” I said, trying to sound braver than I actually felt. “I won’t murder someone in cold blood just to amuse you. I did what you wanted. I survived the fight. Let me go.”

Hades stared at me for a short time, and then nodded. “Have it your way, Mr. Jones.”

He snapped his fingers and the minotaur raised my gun.

I instinctively shut my eyes. A shot fired. The loud bang made my heart leap into my throat. For several seconds, I found it impossible to move. When I finally opened my eyes, I was amazed—pleasantly so—to find myself still alive. I checked myself for bullet holes. I was still in one piece.

Nearby, the cyclops lay motionless on the sand, a smoking hole in the back of his head. A pool of blood was spreading beneath his body. The sight made me angry and sick to my stomach. Whenever the Gods killed, they claimed divine right. It looked like plain old murder to me.

“Well that was fun,” Persephone said. “Lemonade, anyone?”