He looked around but he couldn’t see James. He could have been kept in another cell. What he saw, though, was another man slumped with his face on the cold floor with the strange texture, both firm but almost liquid jelly- like to the touch.
The two men who entered the room ignored him and Giorgos and went straight to the other man. One of them shook him violently.
‘Aristo Symitzis, you need to come with us. You’ve been summoned.’
Now he knew the identity of that man. He had heard of Aristo Symitzis, son of Elli Symitzis, one of the wealthiest and most powerful women in the world. Aristo looked up, confused.
They had no way of knowing that he had hoped it was all a bad dream, and his confusion was disappointment when he realised his ordeal was real. Aristo stood up with difficulty as a result of his maltreatment in their hands. They saw him shaky on his feet and held his arms to steady him. They led him out and the door was firmly closed behind them.
John and Giorgos were not left alone in silence for long. A four-band escort arrived soon after. They dragged John and Giorgos away from their cell, their temporary small corner of comfort and cold, dark cosiness. They were led through bright, lavishly decorated corridors, a stark contrast to the cold and damp dark cell.
The pace was fast, and exhausted as they were, they were struggling to keep up with their escorts. Their escorts were vocally and physically pulling them forward, their actions lashing them like a whip.
John and Giorgos had no choice but to fight the urge to give up, tortured by their escorts setting an increasingly faster pace that reminded John of being chased by a hungry wild animal or an invisible enemy bend on catching up with them and annihilating them.
They reached an antechamber to a grander chamber that they could see through the doorway beyond. The four-band escort stopped. John and Giorgos obeyed the silent order of their temporary masters and stopped behind them. They waited there, presumably until called into the grand chamber up ahead.
They saw that man, Aristo, being paraded past them, appearing to have been cleaned up, and dressed in clean clothes, but with the bruising standing out, more prominent and ugly than before. Aristo looked at Giorgos and John and acknowledged them with a slight nod of his head. Aristo was led into the grand chamber.
The four-band escort turned and stood two at either side of Giorgos and John and, grabbing their arms, pulled them forward and through the doorway. They were led to an eerie chamber, to what looked like a throne room, a woman’s testament to her ambition and self-importance, a dark parody of a hall of justice of the palace of the kings of Egypt and pharaohs in Alexandria in the presence of none other than the Madame Marcquesa de Parmalanski, leader of the Ruinands.
She was sitting, resplendent in her finery, on a golden throne with sphinxes for handles and onyx cobras forming the back of the throne and rising upwards with their frightening heads turned towards the entrance.
The Madame Marcquesa’s servants were standing on either side of their mistress, in silent reverence for the “living goddess”. A man moved forward from a place just below the throne. He stood next to Aristo and indicating him, he bowed to the Marcquesa.
‘My lady, I present your guests, here to pay homage to your Majesty and grace.’
‘Thank you, Koutsoparontis.’
Koutsoparontis bowed again and moved back to his original position. Aristo, Giorgos and John were led to one side to clear a path from the entrance to the throne.
They waited in silence for only a few seconds before trumpets were heard from a remote end of the chamber and a procession of five men entered with none other than Elli Symitzis in the middle, obviously being gently, but still with stealthy determination, pushed forward.
A man from this escort split from its main body, approached the throne and bowed.
‘My lady, may I present your guest of honour, the notorious Elli Symitzis.’
Those present, excluding the captives, sniggered, out of loyalty to their mistress. The man then moved immediately back into place. Another man whispered something in Elli’s ear and forcibly nudged her forward.
She walked to a distance of a few paces from the throne and kneeled down bowing her head to the Marcquesa. The Marcquesa was amused and she smiled a victorious smile and laughed an ugly victorious laugh that echoed long after her face attained its serious distorted mask.
‘If it isn’t Elli Symitzis… Dear Elli, what an honour that you deign to grace us with your presence, how blessed we are to be generously granted such precious time which is but a small window in your so busy and valuable time.’ She was spitting the irony to all the corners of the chamber and beyond.
Elli did not hesitate to respond in kind. ‘I must say, Madame, this spectacle, this show of pomp and circumstance is pointless and wasted on me. It shows insecurity. I would credit you with more class and style than that.’ The Marcquesa did not acknowledge the insult, but simply smiled, giving Elli a hard stare and then looked to all those present, to her literally captive audience and loyal fans.
‘We are here today to pass judgement on these poor specimens that want to pass for people. Your fate will be decided in due course. First things first. You may know by now that I have in my possession the Likureian icons and the Emperor’s ring. And I have recently acquired a third icon, the one that was stolen from the auction at the Topkapi in Istanbul.
‘I am aware, as I know you are, of the power residing with the last Emperor hidden in his tomb and I want to be the one to initiate and complete the revival process. When he comes to life, I’m the one he will see and the one he will speak to first and I’m the one he will be a servant to.
‘His power will be placed in my service to be harnessed for what purpose I decide. With that power in my disposal the world does not stand a chance. You and your organisation are in my way and will be but an ant to be squashed to let me pass on my destiny to world domination.’
The Marcquesa paused and stared intently at Elli, her expression of triumph over her adversary a vision for sore eyes, a precious snapshot of invincibility, of immortality. Was it to last, though, or would it crumble?
‘Elli, accept the fact that you have lost and can no longer stand in my way. We have obtained Giorgos’ research.’ The Marcquesa paused. Her tone when she continued was one of ruthless superiority poured on absolute authority. ‘Yes…’ Another pause. She had everybody present eating out of her hand waiting for her next morsel of revelation.
‘He has found quite a lot it seems, a lot for which I would bet you have no idea. But I confess I don’t know either. Because it is encrypted. Giorgos here who holds the key to those findings as he was the one that encrypted them, will decrypt them for me and will give me the location of the last Emperor’s tomb and what is necessary to be done for the last Emperor’s revival and the use of his powers which will be all mine.
‘Before you think that you could use Giorgos as a bargaining chip, let me tell you that he will have his own reasons not to refuse to serve me, even if he may think that he and the subject of his reasons may be perishable when they have outlived their usefulness. Then again it will be a risk he will have to take as I may decide to be merciful.
‘And do you know why he will have no choice but to comply? Not because you will tell him to, if I agree to let you all go, if you are so deluded as to foolishly believe that I could ever agree to that in the first place, but because he will not want for any harm to come to his beloved parents, tough but gentle Andros and sweet Anna, who are as we speak on their way here to be my guests.
‘Yes, it is high season for this hotel of mine that is fully booked and will soon be fully occupied. But fear not. Catering-wise we are prepared for any eventuality. But I fear that we may have overbooked, so one of you will have to go, disposed of gently and discreetly.’ She paused and indicated for Aristo to be pushed slightly forward and down to the ground on his knees.
‘Look at your son, Aristo. If you want him to stay alive you will give me your kalbendium mines.’ The Marcquesa saw in Elli’s face the hint of surprise, barely perceptible. ‘Ah, I see you are surprised.’
Elli racked her brains for how the Marcquesa could have found out about the kalbendium mines. Who apart from her knew? Of course. Iraklios. The first seed was planted in her mind of the identity of her traitor. But she could not allow it to sink in.
She simply would not make herself believe that there was any truth in it. The Marcquesa was looking at her in silence as if waiting for her to finish her train of thought, enjoying Elli’s torment. Let her stew, she thought. I won’t reveal my source, but she may have guessed. The Marcquesa wondered whether she had been too rush, too obvious.
‘I know you won’t give them up without a fight. So I will just ask for the key once, nicely, and, let me remind
