“Crouch? I’ve landed. Where are you?”
“We’re outside the Hagia Sophia waiting for our tame archaeologist. It’s a church, the largest—”
“I know what the bloody Hagia Sophia is,” Alicia snapped, still a little wound up from the flight and its surprising turbulence. “Not just a stunner, y’know. At least I like to think so. Haven’t had a real boyfriend to tell me in… well, forever.”
Crouch clucked a little uncomfortably. “Okay. Grab a taxi and meet us here.”
Alicia hung up, already buckled into the back seat. It would be good to see the Gold Team again. Despite herself she’d missed the belligerent but dependable Russo, the fresh-faced, talented Healey and the clever, mightily green newcomer — Caitlyn. She’d also missed Crouch’s reassuring leadership skills and his sheer enthusiasm for anything even remotely related to ancient archaeology. That man had finally found his calling. Good for him. One day my time will come.
The streets were jam-packed with people and vehicles, dusty, sunbaked and yet the high roofs and towers rose above it all, shining, gleaming in the bright light as they stretched for the skies. Alicia kept her focus all around her, constantly on the lookout for any kind of conspirator, the soldier in her simply unable to switch off. When the great church appeared ahead she ignored its spectacular sprawl, its domes and minarets, its awe-inspiring edifice, and focused on the sidewalks all around, the gardens and any narrow alleyways. Such historical magnificence did not inspire her — it only served to remind her of all who had died in the name of religion.
Seeing her team up ahead, Alicia stopped the cab and paid the driver. Russo saw her first, swinging that enormous head like a lumbering prehistoric carnivore. Was that a smile on his lips or a slight grimace? Did he move to protect his extremities?
“Lovely,” Alicia said as she came up to them. “A friend spots you in the crowd and then winces. How’s it hanging, Robster?”
Russo winced again, this time more openly. “Just waiting for the bullets to start flying, Myles. They always seem to accompany you.”
Alicia accepted a hug from Caitlyn and a smile from Healey. Crouch introduced the man he had been talking to.
“This is Naz. The man who brought Rolland in on the hunt. Naz is an archaeologist and one of the men who’s been risking his life on a daily basis to uncover the secrets of the old dock.”
Naz grinned at her. “Yes. Tunneling is not my forte. Especially when I witnessed government soldiers bringing down a thirty-day food supply in case the tunnel they built collapsed.”
Alicia shook her head. No surprise there, mate. Naz was a swarthy, lean individual with a thick beard and bright eyes. He wore a maroon T-shirt with holes around the neckline, dirty jeans and tattered trainers. The man looked more like a student playing at archaeology than a specialist.
“Where’s your dad?” She looked around, shielding her eyes against the glaring sun.
Naz looked momentarily confused before catching Crouch’s wry smile. “Oh, I see. Well, I am older than I look and very good at what I do. You will see.”
“All I see is a great big piece of old rock. You wanna explain it to me?”
Naz turned toward the Hagia Sophia. “Oh really? There are countless books written about this old thing. My interest lies in what hasn’t yet been found. The mysteries that still lie in wait for us, waiting to be uncovered.”
“So why are we here?”
Naz glanced quickly at Crouch, as if gauging the newcomer’s importance and her blunt persistence. “Well, we are here because this church has a significant impact on our quest. The secrets it possesses and has witnessed since its construction in 537 AD are limitless. It is the personification of Byzantine architecture, once referred to as ‘changing the history of architecture’. Before the crusaders attacked in 1204 it contained numerous holy relics but then slowly began to fall into disrepair, then became a mosque and later a museum. This is what you see now. Of course, out of all that colorful history, I mention the crusader sack of 1204 for a particular reason.”
Crouch nodded. “The Fourth Crusade was a turning point in history.”
“Yes, and for many reasons. But for us, it marks the last known sighting of the treasure we seek — the Hercules Tarentum.”
“Rolland mentioned that you found a bill of lading relating to the statue.” Crouch remembered.
“Never heard of it.” Alicia coughed.
“Yes, I found the bill. And to put it as succinctly as possible — the Hercules would be the only surviving piece sculpted by Alexander the Great’s only sculptor, the same man who created the famed Horses of St. Mark and whose pupil built one of the ancient wonders of the world.”
Alicia raised her eyebrows. “Gotcha.”
“I thought it basically disappeared from the ship discovered at the ancient docks,” Caitlyn said. “The history books said the Hercules was ‘thought to have been hidden from the crusaders under Hagia Sophia’.”
“No.” Naz shook his head. “Many books from the History of the Crusades to Enrico Dandolo’s Attitude Toward Byzantium make mention of the crusaders actually melting down the great statue for its content.”
Crouch considered this carefully. “You mention Dandolo, as did Rolland. He was the only leader of the crusade who actively tried to prevent other crusaders from destroying the treasures.”
“Exactly. It is what he did with the Horses of St. Mark, much of the interior of Hagia Sophia and countless other relics. Or so history tells us.”
“So he saved them by stealing them?” Caitlyn said. “That doesn’t exactly make him this city’s great protector.”
“Certainly not. Some believe Dandolo, once the Venetian ambassador to Constantinople, had his sights set on certain treasures long before the crusaders came knocking at Constantinople’s formidable door.”
“Which might include the Hercules?” Caitlyn asked.
“It stands to reason. Dandolo led his Venetians in search of treasures. He did not take part in the destruction, desecration and murder of its inhabitants.”
“All right,” Crouch said. “So what makes you believe the statue wasn’t melted down?”
“Beyond Dandolo’s search? His deceptions? His obvious knowledge of the city? Just one thing — the Horses of St. Mark.”
Crouch’s gaze searched the middle-distance, wandering off in the direction of Istanbul’s ancient Hippodrome. Today it was an intriguing city square with very few fragments of the original structure surviving, yet was still home to the pink granite Obelisk of Thutmose III, once erected at the Temple of Karnak in Luxor. It has survived nearly three thousand five hundred years of turmoil in remarkably good condition.
“Why do those Horses keep on cropping up?” Russo grumbled.
Naz smiled. “Because they are inextricably linked to the Hercules, mostly through their maker — Lysippos — but also by history and circumstance. It is no coincidence that both ended up in Constantinople at the same time, my new friends.”
Alicia considered all she had learned and then spoke up. “Let me catch up. It shouldn’t take too long. You found proof that this statue came to Constantinople, and then you called Rolland Sadler. Now we’re here and we’re all friends. Is that it?”
Naz grunted. “Well when you put it like that you take away the excitement and mystery of it all.”
“Oh dear. I’m sorry. So what’s next?” Alicia remained straight-faced.
“Hagia Sophia,” Naz said. “You have to understand that, to many, this church is as important as the Vatican. Tunnels twist underneath it that stretch all over Constantinople, and it was here that treasures were secreted during sieges. Until recently the Turkish government have never properly acknowledged that any tunnels exist beneath her. But then access was granted to a team of divers for just one day—”