So far nobody even remotely shady or suspicious had showed up to throw a monkey wrench into Junior’s plans. Per the instructions of the old man, the local Nephilim had gotten Leroy his favorite type of hand gun, so he didn’t have to try smuggling one into the country. Not likely he was going to get a chance to use it though. Hunt felt it was safe to relax his guard and doze away his time in Greece in an alcoholic stupor. He just told Daniel to check in with him every afternoon. That way he could expend the minimum amount of effort to be sure the little punk hadn’t fallen down a rat hole or got himself killed some other way.
Hunt looked at his watch again. 4:10. At that moment, Daniel sloped around the corner of the building and slid into the other chair at Leroy’s table.
“Well, son, glad to see you made it on time.”
The young man glanced around nervously. He was clutching a black leather portfolio and still wearing that creepy Nephilim get-up even though it was ninety degrees in the shade. Hunt thought he looked like a demented Jehovah’s Witness with a briefcase full of flyers to stick on people’s windshields. Leroy flashed on another image involving his gun and a dead Bible thumper.
“Any luck today?” he asked pleasantly.
The boy appeared apprehensive. “No, Mr. Hunt. Nothing. I’m beginning to get very worried.”
“Why’s that now?” Leroy scratched his chin, doing his best to sound interested. The waiter returned with his ouzo.
Daniel glanced up at the man and lowered his voice. “We’re running out of locations to check. Linear B tablets have only been found in four places in this part of the country. We’ve already combed Thebes, the ruins at Tyrins, and Mycenae. I’ve spent today at the local museum, but there’s only one site left to check. I pray I find something at Nestor’s palace or Father will be very displeased.”
“Yep, I imagine your daddy won’t be too happy if you come up empty-handed.”
The young man’s shoulders jerked tensely. “It isn’t just that Father will be unhappy, Mr. Hunt. I would be failing God himself.”
Leroy lifted his glass to his lips and sipped his ouzo. “Son, you spend way too many waking hours frettin’ about perdition.”
Daniel made no comment. Instead, he opened his portfolio and started reviewing the papers inside.
Leroy was just bored enough that he actually felt some curiosity about the boy’s mission. “What you got there?”
Daniel slid one of the papers across the table toward Hunt. It was a magnified photograph of one side of the stone key.
It took a moment for Hunt to get his eyes in focus. Too much ouzo or maybe not enough.
“The hieroglyphic markings,” the young man offered. “I expect to find them carved somewhere near the sites where Linear B tablets were excavated.”
“So that’s why you been crawlin’ over them ruins and wanderin’ around in museums?”
“Yes.” The young man nodded. “The granite key possesses some markings in the Linear B language and some in hieroglyphic code. The only way to connect the two is to find the places where Linear B script has been found before.”
“Uh huh,” Hunt said knowledgeably. “And then what? What happens when you find them squiggly marks.”
“They will lead us to the treasure.”
Leroy’s head snapped to attention at that last word. “What was that again?” he prompted.
“The reason we came to Greece,” Daniel explained. “To find the heathen relics. The Bones of the Mother.”
“You think maybe them Bones might be worth somethin’ in cash money?” Even though Metcalf had told Leroy that the relics had no value, Hunt wanted a second opinion. The old man might have been lying. “Is that why your daddy wants you to find ‘em so bad?”
Daniel looked puzzled. “I don’t think so. I’m not sure why Father needs them, but I’m sure money isn’t a motive. I’m sorry. It was a poor choice of words to refer to the artifacts as treasure.”
Leroy immediately lost interest and lapsed back into his previous state of apathy. “Oh.”
The young man shifted his attention from his papers to Leroy’s hat. “Pardon my curiosity, but I’ve never encountered one of the Fallen who dresses or speaks the way you do, Mr. Hunt.”
“What can I tell you, son? My heroes have always been cowboys.”
“Were you ever a cowboy?”
“Nope, I just watched ‘em on the silver screen. I’d see John Wayne or Gary Cooper or, hell, even Montgomery Clift ridin’ off into the sunset. Man, that was a sweet way to live. Simple too. Wasn’t a single problem them fellers couldn’t solve with a gun.”
Daniel looked perplexed. “What silver screen are you talking about? Were those men you mentioned all professional cowboys?”
Leroy regarded him sourly. “I gotta say, your daddy left some big holes in your education, boy.”
At that moment, the waiter came back to the table and asked Daniel in broken English if he wanted to order something.
The young man recoiled in panic. “No, nothing, thank you!”
Hunt observed his reaction with amusement. “It ain’t poison, son.”
“I never partake of food or drink outside of the sanctuary.”
“Too bad. For a travelin’ man that just ain’t practical. Now, what if you was to find yourself on a desert island someday, and that there waiter asked if you wanted somethin’. What would you do then?”
Daniel squinted at Hunt, trying to make sense of the question. “Why would a waiter be on a desert island?”
Leroy waved his hand airily. “Never you mind why. Just answer the question. What would you do?”
“I don’t imagine I would ever have any reason to be on a desert island,” Daniel replied seriously.
Leroy reached into his coat pocket but stopped himself short of gripping the handle of his gun. He could dream,
