David Gibbins - The Mask of Troy

‘Bit of a rollercoaster ride.’

‘See? Submersibles are fun.’ Costas grinned at him, then pulled on the sombrero he’d pushed off behind his back at the wreck site. ‘Macalister’s just been on again. They know we’re ahead of them but into safer water, so we’re to maintain this depth until they come overhead again. You copy?’

‘Copy that. Maintaining depth. So, back to Maurice. He’s got more inscriptions. Amazing. I think it’s some kind of ancient meeting chamber. That UN analogy might not be so far off.’

‘Wait for it. There’s more. So Maurice crawls further along. He says somebody’s been there before. He said it was the strangest thing. He found tools, neatly arranged. A couple of trowels, a mattock. Almost as if someone had left them.’

‘Well I’ll be damned,’ Jack murmured.

‘Then at the end, there’s a door, metal. Made out of bronze. A door into a chamber. He thinks it’s slightly ajar, but blocked up with debris. He’s going to get his guys in there tomorrow and try to open it.’

‘Incredible. I’ve got to be there.’

‘There was one other thing. The thing that might save him a crate of whisky. Or that means he owes one too. In the door. A kind of keyhole. He really wanted you to know. He thinks it’s the palladion. Well, not exactly. More like the impression of it. But he thinks that counts.’

‘What did he say about it exactly? What was it?’

‘That’s what baffles me. He says it’s in the shape of a swastika.’

Jack was stunned. He tried to think, talking as he did so. A swastika. A keyhole. The palladion in the shape of a swastika. ‘Okay. Incredible, but not as bizarre as you might think. That’s where the Nazis got the swastika from, a symbol used across the Indo-European area. It’s found stamped on pottery at Troy. Schliemann even had it put as decoration on the house he had built in Athens. It didn’t have a sinister meaning then, not until Aryan nationalists hijacked it a few decades later.’ He paused. ‘One question. Did he tell you which way around it was?’

‘Reverse. Counterclockwise.’

That was it, then. The Trojan swastika. The symbol of Troy. The key to a chamber beneath Troy. Jack thought of that face again, the face that Schliemann had lifted from the tomb at Mycenae, the face that lay concealed in the basket in front of him, staring upwards, seeing yet not seeing. The face of Agamemnon. Had he, too, stood before those bronze doors? Had he locked that door seemingly for ever, and taken away the key? Had Schliemann found the key, and gone there himself? What had he seen? Jack had thought that the day before had been the most extraordinary day of discoveries in his life, yet today there was more, much more. It was incredible. Yet over it all still hung that elusiveness, that uncertainty, that particular quality of Troy, as if it were all just beyond their grasp; it was as if the mask of Agamemnon lay over the whole site, and to lift it might reveal untold treasures, or merely a void. The mask of Agamemnon. The mask of Troy.

‘Jack. Are you getting Seaquest II yet?’

Jack pressed the com, but heard only crackles. ‘Nothing. Another fifteen metres and I’ll try the other channel. Over.’

‘Okay. Ben’s talking to me. Stand by.’

Jack looked up. He could see the safety divers in the water now, ready to attach the cables that would draw the two Aquapods into the docking bay. He would go up first, with the shield. They would be taking no chances with that. He craned his neck, seeing the entire form of the hull above him, distorted through the Plexiglas dome. He remembered the last time he had peered up from underwater like that, in the lake of Issyk-Gul in Kyrgyzstan six months before. Rebecca had been there then, waiting for him, and he had seen her long hair falling down as she peered over at him from the Zodiac, framing her face. Then, he had been yearning to tell her about the most extraordinary discovery in the lake bed, an ancient tomb glimpsed and then vanished beneath tons of silt. This time, he had something tangible, something she could see and touch. One of the greatest treasures he had ever found. He wished she were here now, looking down on him. He wanted to show it to her before anyone else. He took a deep breath. Next time.

‘Jack. We’re holding position here while they manoeuvre the cables into position.’

‘Roger that.’

‘Jack, there may be some worrying news. Rebecca seems to have disappeared.’

Jack forgot the shield. ‘What do you mean, disappeared?’

‘From her hotel in London. About an hour ago. Our security guy called Ben at once.’

‘The County Hall Marriott? Have they checked the swimming pool?’

‘Apparently there was some guy in the lobby she knew. He’d been at a meeting in the hotel. Happened to have something in his car she might like to see, something he’d just been doing a presentation on. She told the security guy it was really important, that you’d want her to have a look. She said she wasn’t going beyond the hotel entrance. Our guy wouldn’t let her go until he called Ben to check this man out. Someone from the Courtauld Institute, a professor.’

‘You mean Raitz? Hans Raitz?’

‘That’s the one. Ben said they’d checked him out when Rebecca went to see him before. A Nazi specialist.’

‘A Nazi, full stop,’ Jack replied. ‘Got the Gold Medal of the Royal Institute of British Architects a couple of weeks ago, probably in line for a knighthood. But I don’t trust anyone with a Nazi family background who specialized in Nazi art. To me it looks as if he’s furthering the cause.’

‘At least he’s legit,’ Costas said. ‘Whatever his views, he’s hardly a gangster.’

‘Rebecca would never willingly get into a car with him. She told me she thought he was a creep. Her words. I think he might have tried it on with her. I was going to drop into the Courtauld next time I was in London and have a quiet word.’

‘Probably best let Rebecca handle that. He’d be on the receiving end of one of those karate chops Ben’s been teaching her.’

‘She’s probably just gone out for a walk,’ Jack replied, trying to keep calm. He could feel his hands going cold. ‘Like any seventeen year old in London. Maybe we’re wrong to put her on such a tight leash.’

‘Ben’s taking it seriously, Jack. I think he feels he should have flown with her to London. He’s got four of his guys there combing the South Bank and Westminster, and he’s prepped an old special forces buddy of his who runs a private security company in London, got him to put another half a dozen guys on to it. I just hope that when Rebecca comes back from her stroll, she’s grateful.’

Jack tensed. They both knew Ben never overreacted. There must be legitimate cause for concern. Jack looked across and saw Costas peering up towards the divers. ‘Okay,’ Costas said. ‘Cables ready. We’re good to go.’

‘Roger that.’

The Aquapods rose together, side by side, and soon passed the twenty-metre depth mark. Jack pressed the com, heard another crackle and then it was clear. ‘I think I’ve got the external link at last,’ he said. Ben’s voice came over the intercom. ‘Jack, was that you? Do you read me?’

‘Loud and clear. Fill me in.’

‘There’s been an ultimatum. Relayed to Macalister from IMU just minutes ago. You and Costas have to be ready to move. I’ve alerted the Embraer crew and the equipment team at IMU HQ. The ultimatum’s very specific. It doesn’t leave us any leeway. You’re in the helicopter ten minutes after you step out of the Aquapod.’

Jack stared ahead. Suddenly his breathing, each breath he took, was his entire focus. Nothing else mattered. Everything fell away, the wreck, the shield, as if it had all disintegrated into sand. He sensed his hands. They felt heavy, leaden. He stopped breathing. He was utterly still.