Boyd Morrison - The Midas Code

Grant continued on until he reached the room that held the original Antikythera Mechanism.

His first impression was That’s it?

The ancient bronze device was in the center of the room, mounted in a display case with glass all the way around. The device had been discovered in the remains of a two-thousand-year-old shipwreck and consisted of three separate pieces corroded by exposure to seawater. None of the pieces were larger than Grant’s hand. He was amazed that a replica could be built on the basis of what was there, but next to it was another, identical display case with the glittering bronze reproduction. It was mounted on a clear base and rested on a pedestal, but it didn’t appear to be attached to the base in any way.

The cases were seven feet tall, with the top foot taken up by a metal cap that contained the light. Grant walked around until he saw the hole that Stacy had told him to look for. It was for the unique key that every museum had specially made to access its displays. The proper way to reach the object inside was to switch off the motion-detector alarm, insert the key that unlocked the cap from the ballistic glass, and open the front window. If the key was turned without deactivating the alarm, the central security room would immediately be alerted that someone was making an unauthorized entry into the case.

Between the two cases was a stand that showed X-ray images of the original Antikythera Mechanism, which was how they’d seen the internal gears without damaging the artifact.

Grant pivoted around and saw that only one of the cameras was in place. The mount for the second camera was empty, which meant that part of the room couldn’t be monitored remotely. He backed into each corner and snapped more photos. Some of the other display cases around the room had gaps behind them that were big enough for Tyler to use, including one that was directly under the lone camera.

The exhibit hall dead-ended in the next room, which had a fire exit that opened out to the north side of the building. An attendant sat in a chair next to the exit.

With his interior survey complete, Grant wound his way back out of the museum and walked around to the exterior of the north side so that he could see where the fire exit led.

A courtyard filled with broken pieces of marble sat between the fire exit and the street that bordered the museum property. Trees shaded a bus stop and an information kiosk, and the fence that separated the courtyard from the sidewalk was lined with parked motorcycles and scooters, which in Athens were more numerous than cars.

Grant clicked through his photos and concluded that he’d seen enough. It wasn’t a perfect setup, but it was damn close.

He dialed Tyler, who picked up on the first ring.

“How’s it look?” Tyler said.

“I’m sorry to tell you,” Grant said, “but I think your crazy scheme might actually work.”

T yler hung up the phone as he and Stacy exited the hotel.

“Grant says we’re a go,” he said. They were both dressed in shorts, with Tyler in a T-shirt and Stacy in a tank top. He noticed a tattoo of two small Chinese symbols on her shoulder. “What does that mean?”

She pulled her shoulder forward to look at it and said, “A promise I made to myself when I was a teenager itching to get off the farm. It means ‘adventure.’ I guess I found it.”

“I like it.” Tyler lifted the sleeve of his T-shirt to reveal his own tattoo: a castle with a sword through it. “That was my battalion’s insignia. It was a popular tat in the unit, so I decided, what the hell? Grant has the same one on his arm.”

Tyler watched as she traced the outline with her finger and nodded in appreciation. The intimate moment lingered until he lightly cleared his throat.

“You ready?” he asked her, putting his helmet on.

“Hell, yeah,” she said, donning her own helmet. “I love motorcycles.”

Tyler started the second of the two BMW motorcycles that he and Grant had rented. It would be much easier to zip around in the dense Athens traffic with it.

While Grant was scouting the museum, Tyler and Stacy had called various stores looking for the supplies he’d need. Since Tyler didn’t speak Greek, Stacy had done all the talking. It had taken almost an hour to find a paint-ball store and an electronics store that sold what they required.

Armed with the addresses on his phone, Tyler would drive while Stacy navigated. He gave her the backpack to wear.

Stacy hopped on the back of the BMW and pressed herself against Tyler, wrapping one arm around his waist.

“Just tell me where to turn,” he said, and roared off.

In twenty minutes, they were in the western part of the city. Even though Tyler had looked at the map before they left, he felt disoriented. He couldn’t even pronounce the words on the signs.

Stacy pointed to a store on the right. This sign he didn’t need to read. It had a picture of a paintball splatting against a stylized figure, so he knew they’d arrived at the first location.

He pulled to a stop, and they dismounted. Stacy removed her helmet and shook out her hair, her blond tresses bouncing back and forth. Just a hint of perspiration glistened on her neck, and her tank top and shorts revealed her toned form.

He eyed her until she said, “Undressing me with your eyes?”

Tyler felt blood rush to his face. “No, actually I was trying to dress you.”

“I’ve never heard that one before.”

“It just occurred to me that no clerk in his right mind would forget you.”

“Why, thank you.”

“I’m not objecting to how you look, but we don’t want someone making that connection between this sale and what goes on later. So just pay in cash and get out as fast as you can.”

Tyler took the backpack from her and pulled out his Mariners cap.

“Hold still,” he said. He took off her sunglasses and gathered up her hair until it was piled on top of her head. She kept her eyes on him as he tried not to tug on her hair. She didn’t help, amused at his struggle.

Holding her hair in place with one hand, he plopped the cap on, then put the sunglasses back on her. “Don’t take them off inside.”

“That was very gentle of you,” she said.

Tyler flushed again. “When you work with bombs, you have to have a light touch.”

“Is that right?” She tilted her glasses down.

“You getting saucy with me?” he asked.

“Twelve near-death experiences in three days make you appreciate life.”

“We’ll try to minimize those from now on. You know what we need in there?”

Stacy nodded. “A flameless electric-ignition smoke grenade. It’s not a phrase I learned studying ancient Greek, but I’ll get the point across.”

“Great. And make sure it’s the half-million-cubic-foot model.”

“I’ll get two, just in case.”

“Good. And buy other supplies with it. Doesn’t matter what, but make the smoke grenades seem like an afterthought.”

“No sweat. Be right back.”

Tyler waited by the motorcycle. Stacy came back out five minutes later.

“Any problems?” he asked.

“Piece of cake.” She opened the bag. “Is this what you wanted?”

He looked inside the bag and saw the two grenades. He couldn’t read the writing, but they were the right dimensions. She’d also bought two bags of paintball ammunition and a generic black baseball cap.

“That’s them,” he said.

“The hat’s for you, since I took your Mariners cap.”

Stacy stuffed the bag into the backpack and took off the sunglasses. Her smile was gone.

“You sure you want to go through with this?” she said.

“You mean at the museum?”

“I mean, the possibility of you spending ten years in a Greek prison if you get caught.”