The Collectors Book Two: Full Circle (The Collectors Series 2) (11 page)

“Bear should go with you.”

“I move faster on my own.”

Her eyes filled with annoyance. “Let me put it another way. I’d be happier if Bear went with you.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

“She wants to make sure you’re safe,” said Jocelyn.

“Three against one.
Okay.”

Thunder crashed like rapid cannon fire, swamping all other noises. Lightening flared and the rain cascaded in torrents from the roof.

“Another blooming storm. Does it always rain this heavy?” asked Bear.

“In the good years,” said Maria.

Petros put his feet on top of the small table. “We’re agreed, this collection has potential.”

Everyone nodded.

“Where do you fancy going for dinner?” asked Maria.

“The same place as last night. I could murder another couple of those lamb shanks,” said Bear. “I’m starving.”

At the hotel entrance Maria covered her head and ran through the rain to the truck. The engine fired on the first turn of the key. Petros, Bear and Jocelyn jumped in and she drove away.

Chapter Fourteen

A weak autumn morning sun peeked through the dining room windows. “The rain’s stopped,” Bear said, in between mouthfuls of buttered toast.

“Well,” said Maria. “Cypriots pray for rain every year. Without it we have problems.”

“Maria, while that overgrown excuse for a landfill is filling his belly, he doesn’t give a toss.”

“Don’t mind me, PK. I’m stocking up on the calories. Why do I think you’ll be a pain in the arse today?”

“Talking of arses, shift yours or we’ll be here all day.”

Maria fluttered her eyelashes and stared at the ceiling.
“Shut up, you two. What time should I ring the alarm bells?”

“If we’re not out by dusk, there’s a major problem. Do what you can but be careful.”

Maria gave a rueful smile as she wiped her hands on a paper napkin. “In life nothing goes according to plan. I believe in what you’re doing and you love the buzz it gives. Whatever, Bear, take care of my husband. There’ll be a bottle of red wine open and waiting in your room. While you two go and play, Jocelyn and I intend doing more shopping.”

Petros raised his eyes to the ceiling.

“Given the choice, I’d prefer to be in Varosha.”

*  *  *

Petros could stroll through Varosha blindfolded but the raising of the altar bothered him. What if it wouldn’t move? He sighed and picked up his freshly laundered track suit, changed, went to the foyer and waited for Bear.

He led the way and in less than five minutes an abandoned hotel reception became their refuge. A desolate
mood filled the air that the sun did nothing to dispel. A thought disturbed him; this is an unhappy place. He lifted a finger to his lips.

Bear sidled next to him and whispered, “I’ll be as close as your shadow.”

Petros nodded and walked cautiously through the deserted buildings, their route avoiding the card school.

Bear checked the surrounding area before entering the church. He wandered across to the altar and placed his hand on the cold surface. “Bloody big, isn’t it? This is remarkable.”

“Why? Every church has one.”

Bear snapped his head round. “Education is a wonderful thing.” He drummed his fingers on the smooth marble. “This is a Knights Templar chapel, or was. Every cross carved on the altar is different.” He pointed. “This is a Teutonic, this
Calatrava, this a Templar and this a Hospitallers. Each one has a separate meaning. Ah, two knights on a single horse confirms everything I said.”

“Knights Templar.
How do you know?”

“One day I’ll let you into the secret.”

“Don’t tell me you're one of the funny handshake brigade.”

“In my army unit we were part of the brotherhood. You’re aware of the operations my regiment became involved in, and many more I can’t mention.”

“We’re wasting time. Let’s get on with the job,” said Petros.

Bear continued to inspect the base of the carved stone block. “They did a superb job fitting this. Stop
faffing about. Go and find me a metal bar.”

On his hands and knees, Bear removed the debris from a shattered corner of the base and with his fingers carefully prodded the opening. A huge smile filled his face when the piece disappeared. He sat with his back against the altar and waited.

In two minutes Petros returned with a long metal bar which Bear attempted to bend. “This’ll do.” He placed one end into the hole and with a grunt and a heave, a fragment fell from the side.

He motioned to Petros. “If you examine the plinth closely, you’ll see that the main block fits snug into a recess. A clever sod devised an array of levers to raise it. Considering its age, I reckon the counterbalance should be operated using liquid. We have two choices. Reinstate the source – or brute force and ignorance. I favour the first but where we get the water from could be a problem.”

Bear examined the base. “Now there’s a thing.” From his pocket he withdrew his Swiss army knife and selecting a thin stiletto-like-blade, inserted it into a slotted opening. “Would you believe it, the valve moved.”

He crawled around until he found a well-worn stone slab. With the blade of his knife he prised it from the floor. “Bingo. I doubt if the supply is readily available after so many years but here goes.” He placed his right ear to the ground, while trying to turn the valve.
“Nothing, PK. If I can’t get this to shift, I’m afraid brute force will be the name of the game.”

With the screwdriver blade from his knife he scraped the top of the valve. “That’s a bugger,” he said quietly. “Six seized screws. Where’s the water tank?”

“How would I know?”

“Go and see, will you? I’ll keep playing with this.”

Petros went outside and scoured the area. There was no tank. He tested the drainpipe with both hands. The old cast-iron pipe remained solid as he climbed. In a couple of minutes, he scaled the wall and pulled himself over the edge of the stone roof. He looked around. “No  tank.”

Returning inside he went into a small room. A rusty bed made him think this might have been the priest’s living quarters. High on a shelf sat a large tank. The metal bed
frame met his need as a ladder. He clambered up onto the shelf and stood erect. He kicked the side of the tank and it sounded full. Its large lid weighed a ton, but with effort he dragged it to one side. He pushed his hand into the tank and to his surprise found the water level a few inches beneath the edge. He puzzled why after so many years the tank was full. He depressed the ball cock, nothing. On closer inspection he found a lead pipe descending from the roof. Crafty buggers, he thought. The tank fills from a roof sump when the rains arrive. Simple but effective. With the utmost care, he descended and returned to where Bear lay on the floor.

“The tank’s full. If you can shift that valve we should have enough water.”

Bear grunted and wheezed while he attempted to slacken the screws of the valve. “It turns.”

“Brute force wins again.”

“Well, to tell you the truth, I used WD 40 and left it for a few minutes. I had a can in my back-pack. Fish oil is the best shit remover in the world. I’ll soak it. Should be free when we come back.” He replaced the stone slab.

“Bear, I need to show you where the guards hang out. Ready?”

Moving in and out of the shadows, they located themselves on the top floor of a building facing the guards’ retreat.

Petros glimpsed out of the window, shook his head and smiled. “Our boys have a woman for company. I wonder what they’re up to.”

“You’re a big boy. I shouldn’t have to tell you.”

“Excuse me, but they’re supposed to be on guard duty.”

“They’re bored out of their skulls. No one’s bothered. If you cast your mind back a few years, we observed four other soldiers drinking and playing cards in the same house. Guard duty is a chore at the best of times. These four are obviously randy buggers.”

Petros pursed his lips. “If they were my men they’d be up on a charge.”

“Wind your neck in. Who was caught in bed with the general’s wife?”

“You’ve made your point,” said Petros, trying but unable to conceal his unease. The girl once more came into view. She was in her early twenties, tall and slim, but rather pretty. Cropped, bottle-blonde hair hung limp around her face. Heavy eye shadow and mascara surrounded her watchful eyes, and dark lipstick highlighted her full mouth. He couldn’t hear what she said, but she was clearly agreeing her price. The four men reached for their wallets and handed her the money. The corporal fanned out the pack of cards.

“They’re drawing cards for who goes first.”

“I don’t think she gives a shit. Look at her texting on her mobile,” said Bear. “She’s been paid and will do the biz. Those boys will be in and out like a vicar in a brothel. They’ll get on top, think how macho they are and wham bam thank you
mam, finished. Pound to a penny not one of them lasts for more than five minutes.”

“At least I never paid for the pleasure,” said Petros.

“It’s what she does to survive. No feeling, pain or pleasure.”

Three of the men left the room. Outside they
laughed, joked and smoked cigarettes.

The woman removed her dress and placed it carefully on the back of a chair. With her thumbs, she removed her panties, lay naked on the table and waited. The young man with his underwear below his knees and an
erection, positioned himself. Petros did not watch but for the hell of it, timed the young man until he joined his comrades.

“You might win your bet, Bear. Three minutes elapsed from start to lighting a cigarette.”

The soldier came out onto the street, spoke to his friends, and slapped the back of the next man. For a few minutes he inhaled deeply, finally flicking the stub into the middle of the road. His eyes noticed nothing.

“That motley crew are no problem while they’re playing cards, shagging and don’t go walkabout.”

“That’s true,” said Bear. “We’ll have to make sure they don’t.”

Petros shrugged and said nothing. They left when the last soldier confirmed Bear had won the bet.

During the afternoon, the pair studied the map of Varosha that Bear had marked and noted where the damaged fence gave easy access. They examined in minute detail every possible route in and out.

“This morning,” said Petros, “I had my doubts. Now it’s possible. We need a plan B. Without it we’re risking getting our arses kicked.”

“I’ve a few thoughts on that, PK. Leave it with me and we can talk about it afterwards.”

“Okay.
For me, a hot bath.”

“I’m going for a kebab,” said Bear. “Fancy one?”

“No thanks,” said Petros, smiling.

Petros relaxed and gave thought to the collection. It was feasible but they would need at least three fit men who could handle themselves.

As soon as the sun completed its daily dip below the horizon, the room began to darken. He towelled his body heartily before standing in front of the mirror and combing his hair. Not bad, he thought. The six-pack could do with work but overall a lean fighting machine.

His thoughts turned to Maria. Where were those two girls? He checked his watch: four o’clock. The afternoon had simply
gone. In the bedroom, he dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a white shirt and slid his feet into his favourite black shoes.

A gust of cool air when the door opened, told him Maria had returned.

“Sorry I’m a bit late,” she said. “I’ll have a quick shower.”

He didn’t bother debating the point. “You have forty minutes.”

“I must wash my hair. I’ll be ready in twenty.”

“Do you want me to time you?”

She stuck her tongue out. “Do that and you’ll sleep on the floor.”

“How much did today cost me?” said Petros.

“I’ve been window shopping but not for clothes. There’s a better choice in the south.”

Petros and Maria entered Bear and Jocelyn’s room at one minute after five.

Bear handed them each a glass filled with red wine, and raised his.

“To us and the recovery of the icons.”

“Not so loud, Bear. You never know who’s listening.”

“This is Cyprus, PK, not Russia.”

Maria opened her handbag and rummaged around for a moment or two.

“Lost something?” said Petros. “The rubbish you manage to shove in that bag I’m surprised you can find anything.”

“This,” she said, holding up a nine millimetre Browning pistol.

Jocelyn covered her mouth with her hand.

“What the hell, Maria?” said Bear.

“Jesus Christ, Maria. What do you want that for?” Petros hated being caught off guard.

She laughed. “I always wanted men to grovel at my feet. Get on the floor.”

Petros could see her trigger finger moving.

“Maria, stop playing games and give me the gun.”

A sharp click sounded, the top lifted and a flame flared. “A good copy, don’t you think? I told you, Jocelyn, they’d fall for it.”

Petros took it, impressed. There remained inner depths to his wife he still hadn’t fathomed.

“By the way, you forgot to release the safety catch. Try to keep a straight face when you point a gun at somebody. You were grinning like the proverbial. We’re in trouble if we need weapons. I’d prefer to do this job without hurting anyone. That doesn’t mean to say if it came to it, I wouldn’t kill in self-defence.”