Dorothy Mcintosh - The Witch of Babylon

This area too was peppered with cliffs and strange volcanic rock chimneys. Holes and shrines had been hollowed out in a number of places. I assumed we’d head straight for the cliffs, but instead we took a steep, winding path of cobblestones running through the village. As we turned a corner a massive shadow darkened our path. Shim stepped out of a recess between two buildings. Behind him was the man who’d accompanied Mazare. He’d gone somewhere to pick up Shim. I cursed. It had just become that much harder for me to get away. Six of them now against one of me.

We walked to one of the houses on the outskirts of the village. The two-story home, painted a bright canary yellow, was built into the soaring rock face behind it and surrounded on its other three sides by a six-foot-high wall. An abundance of flowering vines spilled over the top. Our guide banged on a wooden door built into the wall and called out. A few minutes later we heard steps scraping toward us and the door unlocking. It swung open to reveal an elderly white-haired man who gave us a broad, warm smile. He welcomed us in Turkish and held the door as we entered. The courtyard we passed through was cool, shaded by fruit trees; I could hear the sound of a fountain somewhere.

When Shim passed by him as we went into his home, the old man took a good look and then cowered and threw his hands up, screeching something. Fear darted from his eyes.

“He doesn’t want Shim in here,” Eris told us. “Bringer of bad luck into the house.”

“Ask him if he wants our money or not.” Ward pulled out his wallet, peeled off a couple of hundred-dollar bills. He’d undone the top buttons of his shirt and was perspiring profusely. He was moments away from another blow-up.

Mazare took the old man aside and spoke to him quietly, then motioned for Ward to hand over the money. Our host grabbed the bills and hurried off. “Fucking creep,” Lazarus said.

Eris was closest to the door. The elderly man reached for the handle, turned it. Eris moved nearer to him. I assumed she was going to bid him goodbye in Turkish. He looked up at her, smiling at the pretty woman, and began to edge the door open. Grasping something between her thumb and forefinger, she made a rapid movement, appearing to clutch his neck in an odd gesture of farewell. A startled look flared in his eyes. Then he clasped his neck and tried to say something. He dragged in one deep breath and didn’t fall immediately but seemed to fold into himself, putting one hand out to stop the impact with the floor. The first spasm of his body hit. His legs jerked out. I think he bit his tongue. The seizures came fast then, one on top of the other.

Twenty-nine

Shim smashed me against the wall when I tried to run over to help the old man. Mazare was shouting. I didn’t need to understand Turkish to read the anger in his voice.

“Tell Mazare to calm down, Eris,” Ward said.

When Shim released me Lazarus and Eris had their pistols out.

Mazare and his companion fixed the group of us with a hostile glare. Ward ignored them and rummaged in a bag and pulled out jacklights.

I was panting with fury. “Why kill the man?” I yelled. “You people are pigs.”

“The minute he’d left with his money, half the village would know we were here.”

“You murdered him for no reason. If Tomas is in this house he’s being damn quiet about it.”

“You’ve heard of Cappadocia?” Ward asked. “You know about the underground cities there, the ancient rooms and halls that descend eight stories under the earth?”

“What about them? We’re far away from there.”

“There’s a network like it here, although much smaller in size. Tomas has located a tomb by reading the engraving correctly. We can get to it through the cellar of this house.”

I almost laughed in disbelief but caught myself in time. If Ward wanted to think he’d find some treasure trove underneath us he was welcome to his fantasy. “What’s your source for this?” I asked him.

Ward jerked his hand in Mazare’s direction. “He’s a confederate of Tomas’s. He approached us through an intermediary, one of Eris’s trusted contacts. The tomb Tomas has located here has been sealed off since the fall of the Phrygian empire.”

“And you think the old man knew about this?”

“Of course not. He just thought we wanted to see the Christian shrines down there.”

“And exactly why has Mazare chosen to come over to the dark side?”

“The most convincing reason of all. Tomas has been stingy with him. I’m offering a sizeable cut of the proceeds.”

When Tomas told me about the notion of a hidden Assyrian treasure it had seemed like a stretch, but this new revelation of Ward’s entered the realm of make-believe. People had combed these passages for thousands of years; a hidden tomb would have been found long ago. There was as much likelihood of an undiscovered tomb filled with treasure existing in an underground Turkish city as of the Grail turning up in Cleveland. A fanatical desperation to make a colossal find had caused him to lose his grasp of reality.

An idea occurred to me, however. The honeycomb of chambers and passages these underground cities were famous for had many connecting stairways and holes in the floors. Some of the holes had served as latrines or wells, but ladders had been used in others to climb down to more hallways below. If I kept on the alert I might be able to drop down into one of them as I passed it and get away. It offered me a slim chance.

“What’s the point of taking me?”

“You’re our insurance policy,” Ward said.

“Tomas would be happy to see the end of me. I told you that before.”

“He’s down there with two other men and they’re all armed. We’ll put you out in front to bargain with him. If they start shooting, you’re our cover.”

And you’ll never get that far.

Ward looked at his watch. “Tomas has been down there for almost two hours. We have to leave.” He pointed in the direction of the old man, lying still on the floor. “Pick him up,” he said to me. “We can’t leave him here.”

“Do your own dirty work. I’m not touching him.”

Ward glared at me. “Choose your poison then. Eris’s potion or Lazarus’s knife. I’d recommend Eris. She’ll give you a quicker death.”

Mazare spat some more words out and walked over to where the old man lay.

“Mazare says he’ll carry the old man,” Eris said as Mazare lifted the body effortlessly, the old man weighing little more than a boy. His lips had turned blue and his head swung awkwardly. I turned my eyes away. Mazare’s partner stayed above to watch out for any inquisitive neighbors.

In the cellar, a rough doorway had been cut into the stucco wall. We pushed the door open and entered a tunnel. A string of white Christmas lights had been tied to hooks in the ceiling, providing a dim illumination. Shelves had been stacked on either side of the passage, piled with round cheeses wrapped in burlap, dusty jars of olives, and preserves. It was noticeably cooler down here.

The shelves also held an assortment of clay vessels. I recognized them immediately as antiquities and guessed that the elderly man had found them in the course of making this corridor and stashed away a few valuable finds of his own. The tunnel had been shored up with timbers. Every ten feet or so, sprays of grit dropped from the ceiling as Shim’s heavy tread hit the ground. I wondered how stable the structure was.

The passage ended abruptly. A circular rock, like a large millstone with a hole dead center, blocked our way. The object was clearly man-made. “The original doors,” Ward said. “They used those holes to shoot arrows through.”