Giorgos broke into a loud hearty laugh that spread like an epidemic amongst the others, and bounced off the walls of the cave like gunshot.
After the last echo had died out, Giorgos remembered what he came out for and his face became serious. The others noticed the sudden change in his demeanour and were worried, but they also recalled their first instinct when they saw Giorgos return from the depths of the cave. Sotiris was the first to speak.
‘OK, either somebody died or you have found something. I can read that look. Come on, don’t keep us in suspense. What have you found?’
‘I need to know how quickly we can set up a sterile environment.’
‘My God, you have found something. Come on show us, lead the way.’
Giorgos simply nodded and turned to walk towards the interior of the cave. The rest of the team took out and switched on their torches and followed him into the chamber. Silence reigned as they gazed upon the extraordinary find. Suddenly the chamber exploded in a flurry of voices as they all, furiously, fought to examine and interpret the sarcophagus and regale each other with their respective analysis.
Without the rest realising, Giorgos made his way out of the chamber and only stopped when he emerged into the daylight. He stood just outside the cave’s entrance and taking out the satellite phone he dialled a mobile number straight from memory.
Halfway around the world in New York, it was coming up to eight o’clock in the morning. It took only a few rings to rouse a very sleepy James Calvell, deputy director of the Metropolitan Museum and one of the best- connected men in the art world. James had had a rough night. They’d had a theft from the museum’s Cyprus collection, which was not even on display, but languishing in storage, in the basements of the Fifth Avenue beast.
‘Yes?’ answered an unmistakably angry and drowsy James.
Giorgos was taken aback and almost hung up. He knew James could be abrupt on a good day, but he sounded exceptionally so. Obviously he had just woken him up. This was surprising as he should have been up and running by now and at his desk at the Museum; unless he had caught him in a stranger’s bed or even in his own after a wild night out which would be typical of James’ adventurous side.
‘It’s Giorgos.’
Judging by the fact that they had not spoken in months, James knew it was serious. He shook the last remnants of his sleep and sat up in bed. He knew about Giorgos’ involvement in the Cappadocia expedition.
‘What have you found?’
‘I don’t want to say anything yet, but it could be significant. I need a favour. I need the latest dating equipment.’
That was code for a makeshift laboratory to provide sterile conditions.
‘I’ll see what I can do. There’s a plane leaving New York tomorrow carrying stuff for a special exhibition at the Istanbul Museum of Modern Art. I’ll arrange to load on board a package with all the gear you’ll need. You should have it by the end of the week. In the meantime I will call our man at the Topkapi in Istanbul and ask him to help you in any way he can.’
‘Thanks, Jamie, I owe you one.’
You bet. You are coming bungee jumping off the Brooklyn Bridge next time you’re in the Big Apple.’
Giorgos knew he could not get out of this one. The favour he just asked was a big one. ‘It’s a date.’
Giorgos hung up and went to join the others.
He was disheartened to see that nobody had noticed his absence. He thought he could smell the excitement hanging in the thin air around them.
James came through for Giorgos. Giorgos was in no doubt he would. The equipment arrived at the site in Cappadocia earlier than expected. He knew he could always rely on James. The two of them went way back. James was one of those rare guys who had the integrity, street-smart and contacts that allowed him to exercise influence disproportionate to his position, in pulling together huge resources in the pursue of a project.
The makeshift laboratory was quickly set up and the team started the painstaking job of shifting through the chamber for further clues whilst waiting for some extra specialist equipment.
However, the opening of the sarcophagus was not to be. The funding was suddenly and inexplicably pulled and the chamber and the neighbouring cave were sealed.
Giorgos and his team, crashed, returned to Athens.
The archaeological expedition became but a faded memory.
It was a few months later that Iraklios learned about the expedition and its abrupt end. He regretted not knowing about it earlier, because he would have liked to step in with the necessary funding. He knew what was inside that sarcophagus and he knew it was preordained that it would come to light by a young obsessive archaeologist. The information had been handed down the generations from Eleni, the head of their clan during the fall of Constantinople, to reside with him for now.
He wondered whether this Giorgos could be the archaeologist who was destined to uncover the lost tomb. He certainly had the guts to risk professional suicide by going against the widely held opinion of the archaeological community. And yet, being the last guardian of the location of the last Byzantine Emperor’s tomb, Iraklios was surprised that the opening of the sealed chamber did not cause the death of those present at the scene.
He knew about the fearsome power protecting the tomb and the terrible events that took place there in 1453 A.D. Had he been allowed to have got involved with the expedition before it was shut down he would not have allowed the opening of the tomb to proceed unless measures had been taken to protect the archaeological team from near certain death that would befall anyone who attempted to open it. Iraklios would not have revealed the secret of the tomb and its fearsome power, but he would, nevertheless, have protected those involved.
He was prepared to risk any lives even if he may have had to reveal part of that carefully kept secret. Iraklios suspected that the lack of an explosion or death only meant one thing; that the last Emperor’s body was not there anymore. This begged a number of questions; where it was, who moved it, when and why.
CHAPTER 5
Monastery of Pantokrator
Mount Athos, Northern Greece
Present day
Mount Athos appeared suspended from the black sky. It was almost sunrise, but the ominous clouds pushing down on the Holy Mountain kept at bay any threat of sunlight getting through. The gloominess brought out the Mountain in all its brooding and divine glory.
Women were not allowed to step within the boundaries of the semi-autonomous territory of the Holy Mountain, but Elli was an exception. The privilege or special dispensation was granted a long time ago and had been repeatedly renewed by the governing body of the Holy Mountain and had never been withdrawn.
Elli had, after a gruelling journey, just arrived at the Monastery of Pantokrator. The monastery’s library was not one of the biggest of the monasteries on the Athos Peninsula, but it was one of the most valuable, containing three thousand rare ancient manuscripts. It was very fortunately spared intact when a terrible fire engulfed the monastery one hundred and fifty-four years ago.
Elli was here to see Aggelos, the curator of the monastery’s library and treasures. She wanted to talk to him about her search for the Likureian icons. The monasteries of the Holy Mountain had been the depository of treasures, manuscripts and relics since the fall of Constantinople and their priceless collections were vast.
If there was anyone who could help her, that was Aggelos. His prodigious study had given him unparalleled knowledge. Elli had great hopes that somewhere amongst those ancient manuscripts lay the information she sought. A young monk she had met before called Sotirios came to meet her.
‘Mrs Elli, welcome. It is good to see you again.’
‘It is good to be here again, Sotirios. I believe Aggelos is expecting me. Could you please take me to him?’
