“Okay,” Payne said. “I get that. But what does that have to do with the treasure?”
Dial continued. “Nicolas didn’t come up here to die. He came here to protect the treasure. And the only way he could do that was by convincing us that the Brotherhood had moved it somewhere else. Then he killed himself before we could ask him any more questions.”
“You seem pretty sure of that.”
Dial shrugged. “He’s lied to me before. I started to recognize his patterns.”
Allison asked, “So what does that mean? They didn’t move the treasure?”
Dial shook his head. “They didn’t have time. The Spartans killed them before they could.”
75
Payne studied the large pile of skulls stacked haphazardly against the wall. There were hundreds of them, several centuries’ worth of dead monks who had sworn to guard an ancient treasure. If his friends were correct, the monks still protected it—even in death.
“Explain this to me again,” he said to Jones. “You think the treasure is under there?”
“Not the treasure itself. But I think the skulls are hiding something. A fissure or a passageway.”
Payne smirked at his friend. “A minute ago you were making fun of me when I said there might be a clue somewhere in the cave. Now you’re telling me there’s a secret passageway?”
Jones nodded his head. “Yep. That’s what I’m saying.”
“That sounds kind of crazy.”
Andropoulos cleared his throat. “Actually, sir, it’s not that crazy. Director Dial and I found a secret tunnel at Metéora. It was hidden behind a large tapestry in the monks’ barracks.”
Payne glanced at him. “You found a tunnel? What was inside?”
“Stairs and an underground vault with several carved shelves and a fancy stone altar, but whatever had been stored in there had been moved long ago.”
“The room was empty?”
“Yes, sir. It was empty.”
Dial corrected him. “Actually, that’s inaccurate. We did find something important.”
Payne asked, “What was that?”
“The severed heads of the Brotherhood.”
“Are you serious? The heads were down there?”
Dial nodded as pieces of the puzzle slowly fell into place. “The Spartans slaughtered the monks, and then stacked their heads on the stone altar. At the time, we assumed that they were sending a message, but we didn’t know what it was. Now I have my answer.”
“Which is?” Payne wondered.
“One of the monks—one of the seven members of the Brotherhood—must’ve revealed the treasure’s location before his death. The stacked heads were the Spartans’ way of bragging about it.”
Jones added, “Which would explain their presence on the mountain. They knew where the treasure was hidden, and they were coming to get it.”
“It appears that way, yes.”
Payne glanced at Dial. “It appears that way? Do you have another theory?”
Andropoulos said, “He always has a theory.”
Dial smiled. The young cop was learning. “For some reason, something about the Spartans’ role in this still doesn’t seem to fit. From what I have been told, the Spartans weren’t motivated by money. Their sole purpose in life was to be the best warriors they could be. They didn’t care about gold or treasure. They only cared about their reputations as soldiers.”
Payne shrugged. “Times change. People change. Money might mean more to them now.”
“I don’t know about that,” Dial argued. “They still live in the same region of Greece and continue to speak Laconian after all these years. They still train like their ancestors, and obviously have the same armor and weapons. On the surface, it appears they still care about the same basic things. And as far as I know, money isn’t one of them.”
“Then why were they here?”
“When Marcus and I spotted the tunnel, we found these incredibly detailed carvings of soldiers and war. They appeared on the door, on the shelves, and on the stone altar. To us, they seemed completely out of place in a monastery where all the other artwork focused on religion. Now I’m beginning to wonder if the carvings had something to do with the treasure.”
“Such as?”
Dial explained his theory. “We were informed that the monasteries have always been used as sanctuaries, a place where artists and writers were free to work without persecution. We were also told that Spartans frowned upon the written word. Actually, that’s an understatement. Writing was forbidden inside their culture. Everything we know about them comes from outside sources, and since we’re talking about twenty-five hundred years ago, sources are limited.”