Marjorie Thelen - The Forty Column Castle

I leaned close to the wall. The stones still retained the heat of day. The warmth helped calm me till my nerves were humming instead of jangling. I had to go on. I had to find out what those pops were. I inched around the opening and ducked into the niche in the wall to the entrance. From there I was able to view into the interior court but saw only more walls made of blocks of hewn rock.

I hesitated. Maybe I should go back, get clear of the ruins and call. What if Zach had been shot? I kept going and cleared another one of the interior walls which were labyrinthine in nature. I pressed close to the wall, trying to stay in the shadows. I heard another pop and almost in the same instant a bullet ricocheted off the wall about three inches from my nose. I ducked and streaked back toward the entrance of the castle. But I wasn’t alone. The pounding of footsteps behind were as loud as the beating of my heart. I hurtled through the entrance and smacked into the waiting arms of a midget. It wasn’t really a midget, but he was small and our grunts were about the same volume. I walloped him with my pistol before he had time to recover which bought me enough time to get away from the little guy but not from the hand that grabbed my shoulder and spun me around.

“Stop,” said the hooded figure.

The gleam of the gun barrel gave it a silver moon hue. It was pointed at my face. It had a big, long silencer fitted onto the end.

“Drop your gun.”

I stopped in mid-struggle and dropped it. When the gun pointed at you is bigger than yours, drop it. Or at least I did. It was an automatic reaction. No thought involved.

“Walk.” The arm gripping my shoulder pulled me back into the interior of the castle, none too gently might I add, and not where I wanted to go. The voice was rough and hoarse, like the man who owned it had been shouting all day. This was the part of the caper in which I had not wanted to get involved. But I wouldn’t listen to Zach, would I?

We wound our way into the smaller interior rooms that had probably been used for milling and baking. Unfortunately, I recognized the path. We were on our way to the six latrines that had been excavated. They had hidden the jewels in the latrines. Clever.

Two shadowed figures worked at the end of the main drain, which emptied into the exterior ditch that encircled the castle, where the remains of a man were found during the excavation. The unfortunate gent had tried to escape the falling debris of the earthquake in 1223 by crawling down through the latrines to the drain. But the drain exit was blocked by narrow slits that only allowed liquid waste to dribble outward into the ditch. The poor man had died in place with a blue glass bottle in hand. In the exact spot where the excavators had found the skeletal remains of the hapless earthquake victim, two men were digging at the stones blocks of the drain.

To the side against the wall Zach lay face down in a pool of blood. My heart hit the stone floor of the latrines. He was dead.

My hooded captor shoved me. I hit the wall and sank onto my knees. I wished I had called for help. I could have wished a lot of things in that instant, but my most fervent wish was answered. In the dim light I saw the rise and fall of Zachariah Lamont’s back. He was still breathing.

I counted four thieves including the little guy lying outside. None seemed interested in me. It appeared that the stones of the latrine were being a bit testy about being moved even though they must have been before, if the jewels lay hidden beneath.

Something occurred to me, as I inched as close as possible to Zach’s prone body and clasped his ankle for comfort. His ankle was warm and that cheered my quaking little heart. What occurred to me sitting there watching the three thieves curse and bang their chisels against the reluctant stone was that Zach said this was a sting operation. That meant there had to be more good guys somewhere. My bet was that Helena was waiting in the wings. I tried hard not to look around. But my head wanted to swivel all over, trying to see if I could spot her.

A cry of elation went up from the diggers. All three worked at pulling out the reluctant stone they had been chipping around the edges. I looked around for a rock or something to throw or hit with, just in case. Sure enough, they held up a metal box. One thief lifted the lid and in the ray of a moon beam, I caught the glint of something shiny. The other two grabbed the box at the same time.

“Stop right there and freeze.”

I recognized that female voice. Helena. There she stood on the wall above the latrines, gun in hand, looking like a dark Athena. The thieves looked up at the same time, more surprised than I was to see Helena standing over them. Through the archway trotted Inspector Polydeuces with three other police men, guns drawn.

I sighed out all the breaths I had been holding. Then Zachariah Lamont rolled over onto his side and sat up much to the astonishment of the thieves. He stood, brushing himself off and dabbing at the sticky liquid on his shirt.

“Bullet proof vests do come in handy, Princess, but this catsup-honey combo is a bit too sticky sweet for my taste.”

The wedding took place in July.

Aunt Elizabeth declared that since this was the first time she was getting married she wanted a properly planned affair so all her friends could attend. It took that long to arrange all the guests’ trips to Sicily.

The three English widows came, as well as Salvatore’s children and their families, who took to my aunt with wide open Sicilian arms. According to the relatives, their mother had been quite severe. Aunt Elizabeth was quite the opposite, always with a twinkle in her eye and a funny story to tell. She fit right in to the warm, happy side of Sicily.

Salvatore, I could tell, was enchanted. His home in Sicily was cut out of a hillside dotted with Cypress and pines, overlooking the sea near Taormina, a popular resort, complete with Greek and Roman ruins, sandy beaches, and a phenomenal view of steaming Mt. Etna. The family was from a village in the hills surrounded by countryside alive with citrus groves, vineyards and walnut trees. The village church was no bigger than a small chapel, and the entire village turned out for the party which was held outdoors under the olive trees in Sal’s personal olive grove. They honeymooned in a Tuscan castle, where I’m sure they got into some hanky-pank.

The thieves were awaiting trial. Word was that the prison sentence would be a long one. Inspector Polydeuces rounded up the rest of the terrorist cell which fell apart without the front thieves, who provided the cash for the operation. Inspector Polydeuces came to the wedding, too.

Lena came after she got over being furious for my not contacting her for five whole days. She got over it fast when she realized my aunt and I were both fine. The mutual fund survived. We added an office manager and were looking for another financial partner to add to the fund management, as new opportunities were opening up all the time in Europe and the Mediterranean, Africa, Asia, Latin America.

As for Zachariah Lamont — we walked back to the car after Inspector Polydeuces hauled the four thieves away from the Forty Column Castle.

“What now, Princess?” Zach said.

We walked arm and arm over the stony path along the shore as the moon set. The sky began to lighten in the east over my beloved island of Cyprus. I walked under his clean arm as the side with the catsup and honey was pretty disgusting.

“I’m hungry, how about breakfast?”

“Excellent idea. But I was referring to your longer term plans after we have breakfast.”

“That’s real long term.” I laughed, feeling tired but a good tired that permeated every cell in my body. “I intend to get some sleep.”