Free The Lost Labyrinth by Will Adams Page A

around five. We’ll be busy until then.’
    ‘But tomorrow I’m going to—’
    Mikhail’s face darkened. ‘Don’t make me come looking for you, Olympia,’ he warned. ‘I will if Ihave to; but you’ll regret it, I promise.’ He watched Davit escort her out the door, then turned back to Edouard and the others. ‘Well, then,’ he said, rubbing his hands together. ‘Perhaps we should get down to some business.’

II
    ‘You’re kidding,’ said Knox dazedly. ‘Petitier had found the golden fleece?’
    ‘That’s not what I said,’ replied Nico carefully. ‘And it’s not what he said either. At most, he implied that he’d found it, or something to do with it. He left himself plenty of room to back away from it, if he so wished. He could have put it down to a misunderstanding. He could have claimed it was pure coincidence that those were the only two words on the seals that we could read.’
    ‘He was a Minoan scholar. No one would have believed him.’
    ‘No,’ agreed Nico. ‘Which is precisely why I agreed to step aside so that he could give his talk.’
    ‘And Augustin knew about this?’
    ‘I can’t say for sure, but it’s certainly possible. You see, I—’ He broke off as the BMW bumped onto the kerb and pulled up outside an imposing-looking building.
    ‘Evangelismos Hospital,’ said Charissa economically. ‘You all go on in. I’ll find somewhere to park.’
    Nico shook his head. ‘I have to leave you, I’m afraid. I need to go to the hotel, tell all our delegates about tomorrow’s revised programme.’ He pulled an anxious face. ‘You do understand?’
    ‘Of course,’ said Knox. ‘But maybe we could meet up later? For dinner, say?’
    ‘Excellent idea. Do you know the Island?’
    ‘No.’
    He kissed his fingertips. ‘It’s in Exarchia. Charissa knows where. The best seafood in Athens, and not too expensive. Not for what it is, at least. I’ll book us a table, if you like.’
    ‘Sounds perfect. What time?’
    He checked his watch. ‘Nine-thirty, say. That should give me enough time. If I can find a taxi, at least.’
    ‘You two go on in ahead,’ said Charissa. ‘I’ll drop Nico at the hotel, then come back.’
    Knox and Gaille made their way through an archway into the staff car park. A TV crew and a couple of journalists were having a cigarette and a laugh together at the foot of the front steps, waiting for something to happen. In the evening gloom, it was easy enough for Knox and Gaille to slip past them and up the marble steps. The woman behind the information desk was remarkablysquare-looking, as though someone had thrown a rug over a washing machine. They asked her about Augustin. She directed them to ICU One, but warned that the police weren’t allowing him any visitors other than his fiancée.
    Bulbous lamps glowed like multiple moons in the high, wide corridors. Hard heels clacked like dominoes on the meander-patterned tiles. Monitors, gurneys, laundry baskets and other hospital paraphernalia were stacked against walls painted pastel yellows and blues, a worthy attempt at cheerfulness that had long-since faded into drabness. A wail pierced the hush: someone struggling with fear or grief. Knox flinched at a decade-old memory, walking to another ICU unit in a different Greek hospital, saying goodbye to his sister Bee on the day he’d been told she was going to die. The muffled, oppressive echoes of these places, the brutal whiteness of the equipment, that numb, dreamlike sense of wafting rather than walking, of being unable to protect the ones you love.
    A policeman was sitting on a hard chair outside the ICU’s double doors, reading a magazine. ‘Damn,’ muttered Knox. He’d hoped the police had merely issued edicts against visitors, not actually put someone on watch. A heart-monitor was on a trolley against the wall. ‘Distract him,’ he told Gaille, as he grabbed it.
    She nodded and went to ask a question. Thepoliceman shook his head. She asked him