Authors: Kevin Ashman
He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a wallet.
‘This belonged to the guy back at the house,’ he said and pulled out the contents.
‘You make a habit of robbing the dead don’t you?’ she stated.
He didn’t answer but continued to empty the wallet.
‘Couple of hundred quid in sterling,’ he said, ‘Couple of credit cards and this,’ he handed over a pink plastic card, ‘A European driving license issued in Greece.’
‘Peter Venezelos,’ she read, ‘Doesn’t mean anything though, Greece is a big country.
‘Well, it’s all we’ve got,’ he said, ‘Investigations will carry on here but in the meantime we will go out to this Samothrace place and ask some questions about this guy. Perhaps the local police can shed some light on him.’
‘There’s something else,’ said India, ‘When you went looking for Agnes I went over to look at the body.’
‘Why?’
‘Call it morbid curiosity,’ she said, ‘After all, It’s not often someone tries to murder me. Anyway, I noticed he was wearing a ring.’
‘Phillip of Macedonia again?’
‘No, this was quite different, the genuine article. Made in Greece about a thousand or so years ago.’
‘What was on it?’
‘See for yourself,’ she said and placed the gold ring on the table.
‘Now who’s stealing from the dead?’
‘I’ve got a good teacher,’ she answered.
----
Brandon examined the golden ring. It was obviously very old and the engraving very faint.
‘A chariot?’ he suggested, ‘Being driven by an angel.’
‘Almost right,’ answered India, ‘It is indeed a chariot but the person driving it is not an angel, she is known as Nike.’
‘Like the trainers?’
‘Ha ha,’ she said sarcastically, ‘Nike was an ancient Greek Goddess that personified victory.’
‘I’ve never heard of her.’
‘You see her quite often I would have thought.’
‘Where?’
‘Ever watched the Olympics?’
‘Yes.’
‘She is on the reverse of every gold medal since the 1920’s.’
‘Can’t say I’ve ever studied one up close.’
‘What about the world cup then?’
‘What about it.?’
‘The Jules Rimmet trophy is based on a representation of Nike.’
His brow raised slightly in acknowledgement.
‘Anyway,’ she continued, ‘The most famous image is a marble statue which was found in the 1860’s and now resides in the Louvre museum in Paris. The head is missing but the statue is breathtaking nonetheless.’
‘Why is she relevant to us?’ he asked.
‘Where do you think the statue was found?’ she asked and waited as realisation dawned on his face.
‘Don’t tell me he,’ said, ‘Samothrace!’
She nodded silently to confirm his assumption.
‘So Mr whatever your name is,’ she said, ‘We’ve got a couple of hours to kill. Why don’t we go through to the lounge, get a nice cup of coffee and you can tell me everything about this mess.’
----
Fifteen minutes later they both sat in a quiet corner of the flight lounge each nursing a hot coffee.
‘First of all,’ he said, ‘My name is indeed Brandon and Agnes is my mother. I am a serving officer in the intelligence arm of the Special Air Service but would appreciate it if you kept that fact kept to yourself.’
‘I understand,’ she said.
‘Right, all this started when the first girl was found in Victoria station. At first it was a simple murder case and was being investigated by the police. We weren’t involved at that stage and ordinarily wouldn’t have been called on. However all that changed when the second girl was kidnapped from outside the hotel.’
‘Why?’
‘Because the girl is the niece of the Prime Minister!’
‘What?’ she gasped in astonishment, ‘How can that be? Where was her security, Where were you lot?’
‘We don’t protect extended family members unless there is a specific threat,’ he said, ‘It seems that the family had come to London on a shopping trip and that little girl, Camille, wandered off in Oxford street. That’s when she was snatched.’
‘But nothing’s been on the TV, surely it would have been all over the news?’
‘Like I said, news blackout.’
‘But why, has there been a ransom demand?’
‘No, and there won’t be one. Take a look at these two pictures.’
She examined the two passport size photographs he placed on the table.
‘It’s the same girl,’ she said.
‘That’s just it,’ he said, ‘They’re not. The one on the left is indeed Camille, the one on the right is a girl called Sharon, a young girl who lives in care close to the hotel. We think she is the one that was targeted but Camille was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Whoever they are, they’ve got the wrong girl.’
‘But why don’t the police just release a statement?’ she asked, ‘Wouldn’t the kidnappers just release her?’
‘Think about it,’ he said, ‘At the moment they think they have just got some homeless kid. As soon as they realise it is the Prime ministers niece her life could be in danger.’
‘But surely she is in danger anyway?’
‘Perhaps so, but this way we hope we have bought her some extra time.’
‘We, she asked, and who exactly are
we
?’
‘Everyone and his dog,’ said Brandon, ‘There are hundreds on this case but it seems she has just disappeared off the face of the Earth. None of our contacts in the underworld can shed any light. We’ve pulled in every pimp and pervert across London but no one knows anything. The only leads we have are those coins, but the fact that someone tried to kill us to stop us getting further means that we are onto something.’
‘So why are we travelling second class on a public flight?’ she asked, ‘Surely on a task this big you have all sorts of resources to call on.’
‘We do, but we want to keep a low profile. Be the ‘
grey man’
as we say in the service. If we ran about commandeering all sorts of things we would attract unwanted attention. Not so much from the kidnappers but from the journalists and we can’t afford that. That’s why I whisked you away from Victoria when we found the crucified girl. The paparazzi wouldn’t have been far behind the ambulance and the same at the house. All it would take is one over zealous journalist and the kidnappers would have been tipped off, hence the blackout.’
‘What about the two dead girls, do you think they are linked to this kidnapping?’
‘Hard to say. The only link is the coin but that is what I am going to find out.’
‘Is there anything else?’ she asked.
‘Nope, that’s it,’ he said, ‘You now know as much as me.’
‘Wow,’ she said quietly, ‘This is completely and utterly mad.’
‘Right we need to get serious now India. Four people are dead that we know of, another is in a coma and a child’s life is at risk. From now on in I need your full attention and cooperation. You need to tell me anything that you may know, relevant or not. If there is any link in this direction I need your expertise to guide me.’
‘Understood,’ she said.
He looked up at the digital display.
‘An hour to go. So, now it’s your turn, I want you to go through this whole Samothrace thing. I need to know exactly what we are getting into.’
----
Rome 64 AD
Rubria was sat at the sacred hearth when she was unexpectedly summoned to the Emperor’s palace for the last time. She went out to the courtyard where the High Priestess was waiting. Dragus and the high Priestess were talking in hushed whispers and were obviously agitated over something.
‘Holy Mother,’ she said as she approached, ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Child,’ she said, ‘Calm yourself. Nero has summoned you to his presence and Dragus worries for your person.’
‘Dragus it is nice to see you again,’ said Rubria, ‘Your posting here ended six months ago, how come we are honoured by your presence?’
‘My comrade has been dispatched on duties elsewhere this evening and Nero saw fit to send me instead,’ he explained.
‘Tell me, what news is so concerning that it warrants lowering the Holy Mother’s brow with worry?’
‘Sister Rubria,’ said Dragus, ‘The Emperor is agitated and lashes out against all around him. I only ask that perhaps you don’t attend until his mood calms.’
‘How can I deny my Emperor?’
‘You could say you were ill.’
‘Dragus,’ interrupted the High Priestess, ‘Ours is a service of truth. There are issues here that you don’t understand. Rubria represents Vesta herself and enjoys her protection. If I thought there was any risk to her safety I would not let her go and gladly suffer the consequences.’
‘Holy Mother,’ said Dragus, ‘I understand but something vexes him. There are things afoot that he keeps to himself. I think something terrible is about to happen and don’t want any of you at risk. Even the Senate fear for their safety.’
‘Dragus,’ she said gently as her hand rested gently on his arm, ‘Fret not. I enjoy the Emperor’s trust and over the past year have become his confidante. Yes, his mood swings wildly and I have seen him lash out on several occasions but never has he given me cause to worry about my safety. On the contrary, I believe my presence inspires a calming effect on his troubled mind. If my Emperor needs me then I am duty bound to comply. His majesty is second only to the Great Goddess. Give me a moment, I would cleanse myself and return shortly.’
The Centurion nodded in reluctant acceptance and watched her glide across the courtyard to disappear into the atrium.
‘I hope you know what your doing, Holy Mother,’ he said, ‘Nero’s excesses knows no limits.’
‘I have no choice, Dragus,’ said the High Priestess, ‘The very Temple is at risk. At least this way we may have some advance warning.’ She stared at him for a long while. ‘Dragus, we are honoured by your concern but when you gaze upon Sister Rubria I see a look in your eyes that extends beyond the love of the Goddess.’
Dragus looked down in shame.
‘You are truly wise, Mother,’ he said, ‘It is true that I am entranced by Rubria’s beauty and elegance, but I assure you I respect the Goddess and all who serve her. My intentions are honourable and I seek only to ensure her safety.’
‘I know,’ said the high Priestess kindly ‘And your patronage is greatly welcomed, but beware the tendrils of lust, Dragus. This is an affection that can never be returned.’
‘I am aware of this Holy Mother,’ he said, ‘And accept that this is a lifetime’s burden that I have to bear.’
‘The Goddess will support you, Dragus,’ she said, ‘Will you join with me in a glass of warm wine while we wait?’
Forty five minutes later, Rubria’s litter once again rested inside the outer courtyard of the Emperor’s palace. She stood for a moment straightening out her attire before walking towards the doors. Dragus caught up with her and walked at her side.
‘If you feel threatened at any time, Rubria, you must leave immediately. Do not hesitate or take any chances. I will be waiting outside these doors for you.’
‘I don’t know how long I will be.’
‘It matters not. I will be here.’
She stopped and took his hand in hers, setting his pulse racing as she pierced his soul with her gaze.
‘I am touched, Dragus,’ she said, ‘But worry not for my safety, the Goddess is with me.’
‘I hope you are right, Rubria,’ he said and watched her disappear for the second time that night.
----
Rubria knew at once something was wrong. The whole atmosphere of the palace was different and as she walked through its marble halls, the lack of servants was disturbing. She made her way through the audience chamber and into the corridor that led to the Emperor’s private quarters. Eventually she stood before the double doors flanked by two Praetorian Guards.
‘I am Rubria of the Temple of Vesta,’ she said.
‘You are expected,’ responded one of the guards and opened the door. She walked into Nero’s reception area and waited for the doors to close behind her. As soon as they slammed shut she made her way nervously towards his quarters. Suddenly a female slave burst out through a door and ran past her sobbing as she went. Her clothes were torn and her face bloody.
‘Wait!’ shouted Rubria, suddenly self conscious that she had raised her voice to someone less fortunate than herself.
The girl collapsed to the floor and waited for the admonition that would surely follow. Rubria approached and squatted next to her, gently brushing the girl’s hair back revealing her bruised face. ‘Please,’ she added quietly, ‘You seem to be hurt, let me help you.’
The girl looked up nervously, surprised yet dubious at the sound of a kind voice in a world of harshness.