Victory of Coins (The Judas Chronicles, #7) (17 page)

“And, somehow Kaslow found out about the professor’s research?” I sought to confirm, to which they both nodded. “I guess I should no longer be amazed at what can turn up in a Google search.”

“We don’t know if that’s how Kaslow tracked him down, or not,” said Rachel. “My contact in Greece told me there are two journals that were found inside Dr. Drummond’s briefcase. While there is evidence that our Russian friend confiscated some of the professor’s belongings, his briefcase was left intact.”

“Which could be a message in itself from Kaslow... or maybe not,” I said. “Will we need to visit the police headquarters in Athens to view the contents?”

“No... only the forensic evidence and the couple’s passports and other ‘billfold’ items are in police possession at the moment,” said Rachel. “I now have a favor to repay to a good friend at the embassy. He is allowing us time to view the items before everything else is turned over to the police later this evening.”

It didn’t take long to learn the specific details of what she advised. Soon after the plane landed and the Athens Custom authorities confirmed our security clearance, a pair of US Embassy employees greeted us on the tarmac. They looked like brothers, dressed in dark blue suits with dark hair and eyes.

“Roderick and William, this is Alexis and Dimitris.” Rachel indicated for us to show the pair our passports after this introduction, in order to get the main formalities out of the way. We then followed our escorts to a black Mercedes parked nearby. Rachel hung back with us. “Dimitris is the friend I told you about on the plane, Judas. In their presence, I will use your chosen American alias to avoid confusion, since William J. Barrow is what your passport shows.”

“I suppose it would be a can of worms otherwise, eh?” I whispered in return, appreciating her thoroughness—something that wasn’t one of her strong suits back in the day.

“He and Alexis will accompany us to the crime scene, and afterward they’ll bring us to the hotel where we will be staying tonight,” she advised. “Hopefully, we will know where to travel next by tomorrow morning.”

I shot Roderick a look, as I had not been informed of anything other than viewing the villa that the Drummonds had rented. Nothing had been mentioned about remaining in Greece overnight, although it was possible we might not finish scouring the crime scene for clues about Viktor Kaslow and the next place to search for the Damascus Coin until very late.

“We have reserved accommodations at the King George Hotel tonight, and to be honest, I could use a night’s rest in something other than an airplane,” said Roderick. “Hopefully, as Rachel said, we’ll have a definitive answer on where to go next by morning.”

“And, if Kaslow strikes again before then, we’ll cancel the reservation and immediately fly to wherever he has moved on to,” she promised. “Do not worry, Judas—fulfilling your quest will remain our priority.”

The view of the city’s skyline and famed landmarks in the early evening sunlight were almost breathtaking in their brilliance, and I found myself reminiscing about the times Roderick and I had traveled here... sans our present immortal company. Of course, much had changed down through the centuries. But some of the modern architectural changes surprised me in a good way, though I wasn’t sure what to think of a few of the more modern works of art on display. The internal debate between tolerance and loathing, in response to some of the newer sculptures, still raged when we reached the villa.

A luxurious compound with a rental cost that would normally far exceed the per diem funds granted the most celebrated visiting scholars, Rachel had told us on the plane that a benefactor sitting on the university board had paid for Dr. Drummond’s use of the property. Exquisite marble fountains and what appeared to be koi ponds dotted the courtyard’s generous expanse. The place would’ve seemed extravagant even if the entire Drummond clan from Michigan had come along for this visit.

Stepping into the main living areas, the opulence continued to be the main focus... until we reached the cordoned off area that surrounded two bloodstained chairs positioned side by side. Twin pools of congealed blood surrounded the legs of the chairs.

“It has changed very little since what the chef and housekeeper discovered today, when they returned from a trip to a local market,” the man named Dimitris explained. “The main floor has been processed for evidence.”

He didn’t need to add a remark for us to be careful to not disturb the scene laid out before us. Having removed the bodies of Kyle and Marie Drummond made things easier. If we needed a physical reminder of the victims’ state, Rachel’s laptop contained the photographic evidence collected that afternoon.

“Thank you, Dimitris,” said Roderick. “You have been most helpful.... Now if you don’t mind, we would like time for the three of us to explore this area alone.”

Roderick offered a cordial smile, and Rachel added that we would update Dimitris and Alexis in the event we found anything of possible interest to the police. Whether that remained true for me as well would depend on what we discovered.

“Don’t be too clever,” Rachel advised, as I waited for our two embassy employees to move into a large dining room on the other side of the kitchen. “I made a promise to share anything of note.”

Not the wisest thing to do, but I held off judging her for it. Meanwhile, Roderick examined the bloody puncture holes in the chairs’ upholstery... likely to confirm the distance from where Kaslow executed husband and wife. I tried not to picture the terrifying moment when whatever sweet-tongued promise was reneged upon and Kaslow prepared to systematically kill them both.

Why? He left them alive while he looked for something... the medium twine speaks to him tying them up to keep them from fleeing.... It means he had use for them being alive until he was ready to dispatch them....

They served a purpose that went beyond mere torture.

“Where are the journals?” I asked Rachel.

“Dimitris? Do you have the briefcase in there with you?” she called out to the dining room, when neither of us could detect its presence.

“It is in here... I will bring it to you,” he advised, and a moment later stepped into the kitchen, setting the briefcase next to a grill on a large marble island. He opened the case and turned it toward me. “There are two journals... one is from thirty-two years ago, and the other is less than a year old.”

The older journal was obvious from its dog-eared, yellowed pages, and it was the one I gravitated to first. Meanwhile, Roderick and Rachel looked on. I could tell from Roderick’s expression that he was content for me to go through the journals first, and he cautioned Rachel to wait when she reached for the newer one.

Nearly everything in the first journal was information Roderick and I had long known about, and appeared to mostly be the professor’s dissertation notes. Most of the focus was on sorcery and the coin was mentioned as a side legend to Trophonius’ history as a sorcerer who practiced human sacrifice.

“Hey, it’s better than you being referred to as the world’s first vampire?” Roderick teased.

“Perhaps,” I sighed, worried that we might be running into another dead end, with a vague prize like a Vatican Cardinal ring. I moved on to the next journal.

This one was started the previous November, its initial pages were filled with hastily written references to the Damascus Coin being a genuine item and not something from folklore, as Dr. Drummond previously assumed. He mentioned having a colleague named Baros, and it was this other Athens University academic who discovered the coin—a man who claimed to have seen it
and
held it in his hands!

My pulse began to race, as I suddenly believed we had come to the right place, that the coin was located somewhere in Athens. I read on, barely able to contain my growing excitement that drew my companions’ eager eyes to the pages as they flew by. Yet, except for two more references to Dr. Baros’ knowledge of the Damascus Coin, there was nothing else. Nothing substantial, anyway.

“Maybe we should try to find this Dr. Baros,” said Rachel. “Perhaps he still knows where to find the coin you seek.”

“Baros?” Dimitris emerged from the dining room with the silent Alexis behind him. “Did you say he is mentioned in Dr. Drummond’s journal?”

I guess they hadn’t read it yet.... But something told me our Embassy escorts might be curious to do so now.

“Yes,” said Rachel. “Do you know of this man?”

“I am afraid Dr. Baros is dead,” said Dimitris. “He died from a fall from his balcony in July. It was in the news for most of that month, since foul play was believed to be involved.”

Did Kaslow kill him, too?
I wondered.

“I will make note of the reference when we hand this over to the police,” he advised, glancing at his watch. “We should go now. I hope this has been helpful to you, Mr. Barrow.”

“It has... thank you,” I said, wondering why he decided to use my last name and hoping my blank look successfully hid the sudden barrage of questions flooding my mind.

Dimitris and Alexis excused themselves from our presence to make sure the villa was locked up. Roderick and Rachel were discussing how to find out more about this Dr. Baros, when the sound of something lightweight landing on the floor in the nearby living room drew my attention. I doubt that either of our mortal companions could hear it, but Roderick and Rachel certainly did, abruptly ending their conversation.

“What was that?” she asked.

Without answering I stepped into the room, recognizing the room’s furnishings from the photographs. A slight chill trickled down my spine as I discovered a beige envelope resting below the mirror that had produced the translucent face we had studied on Rachel’s laptop. I moved over to pick it up, turning the envelope over in my hands.

I don’t often gasp, but seeing my name written across the front in Viktor Kaslow’s script elicited a slight one from me. I cautiously scanned the room while turning the envelope over in my hands, and prepared to tear it open. An unusual wax seal had been used to secure the seams—likely adding enough weight to draw our attention to its presence when it seemingly fell out of nowhere.

“Don’t open it yet,” whispered Rachel from behind me. “Let me it slip it into my satchel and we can look at it in private when we get to the hotel.”

Her advice made sense, and the envelope disappeared inside her bag just as our escorts returned.

“We’re ready to go now,” said Dimitris, eyeing us curiously as we stood inside the living room. “Is everything all right?”

“I thought I heard something in here, but I guess it was nothing,” I said. Offering a partial truth often came in handy to avoid suspicion. “We can leave whenever you’re ready.”

Alexis motioned for the three of us to lead the way out. I caught him scanning the living room as if looking for clues concerning the real reason we had left the kitchen, and I was again grateful for Rachel’s admonition.

The ride to our hotel seemed noticeably longer than the ride from the airport to the villa had been, despite being half the distance. My anticipation of viewing Kaslow’s latest discourse fed my impatience. Was it another opportunity for him to gloat, or would he finally provide a clear and useful clue?

“Okay, Judas... I believe we’re finally safe enough to open the letter,” said Roderick, from the shared living area of our luxury three-room suite we had rented for the night. “Unless you prefer that one of us would have the honor instead.”

“No, I can handle this.”

I tore open the letter, being careful to not damage the seal in case it became the only tangible clue we received from Kaslow’s latest correspondence. I never considered that the envelope might include a bomb of some sort, until after I had discarded it and unfolded the letter. The envelope and parchment were clean.

Dearest William,

Please accept my apology for having to cut short our conversation earlier today. By now you know I had a very busy morning planned, with important places to visit and a few people to assist in reaching the afterlife. All in a good day’s work, as they say....

Rest assured, you are now seriously behind in our race, and answers to questions you have slothfully regarded are likely lost forever. Still, I can’t bear to see a doomed immortal cry.... So, I propose to throw in a bonus round, for you to come join me for a little face-to-face contest. The winner will enjoy unquestioned ownership of a certain silver shekel—yes, that one!

You have twenty-four hours to find me from the time you read this—and surely by now you are aware that like Santa Claus I can tell when you’ve been naughty or nice. Think about all of the clues you’ve been given—including Dr. Cirillo’s ring, and then use your intuitions to find my present lair. The clock is ticking, Willie Boy!

I’ll keep a light on for you and your companions.

All the best,

Viktor

––––––––

“I
have no clue where to look next,” I said, feeling defeated. I pictured Kaslow holding and admiring the Damascus Coin while he penned his latest gibe.

“I’m not sure either,” said Roderick, compassionately. “My mind is blank. But perhaps sleeping on it will provide an answer by morning.”

“Or, maybe I can simply tell you where he is,” said Rachel, almost absently, drawing surprised looks from both of us. She was studying the letter’s wax seal. “Yes, Judas... I believe this is our clue.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, guardedly.

“I recognize the crest on the stamp,” she said, nodding thoughtfully. “The family it belonged to is long gone, having perished in the fifteenth century when their beautiful city was sacked by the Ottomans. But the castle where they once called home is well known to me... it lies just beyond the last place I
also
called home before accepting Roderick’s invitation to America.”

Istanbul.

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A
s many of the world’s citizens will attest, Istanbul is an incredible place. A beautiful metropolis that is also one of the world’s largest cities, when talking about how many people actually reside within its official borders. The Ottoman Empire forged a lasting impression that is evident throughout the city. Surprisingly, religious tolerance was remarkable during the empire’s zenith years, where Judaism and Christianity were allowed as much autonomous freedom as their Muslim brethren—unheard of in other regions of the world.