seen action in Chechnya and other covert actions around the globe, were similarly attired.
Standing once more on the solid ground of the shoreline, Dmitry took a map from his chest pouch and unfolded it.
An old fisherman approached them. “You are visitors, yes?” His English was stilted but easily understandable.
“Yes.” Dmitry smiled at the man.
“Visitors do not usually come this time of year.”
“We thought we would come when it was not so crowded.”
The man nodded. “Not so crowded now. But cold.”
“Not too cold for fishing, I see.”
The old man grinned. “Never too cold for fishing.”
“Have you seen many other tourists?”
“Yes. Many men. Two groups go into the old places.” The man pointed in the direction of the ruins. “They not come back yet. Camping. Probably archeologists.” He had trouble with the word.
“How many men?”
The old man thought for a moment. “First group ten men. Second group, maybe thirty.”
That caught Dmitry by surprise. He had thought Linko would have tried to keep his operation small. Dmitry had only brought six men with him. Moving even that many through customs and getting the proper identification in order had been difficult. Linko must have hired local talent to supplement his forces.
“Thank you for your time. I wish you good fortune with your fishing.”
“Thank you. And may you have good fortune with your travels. You come back later, I fry you some fish. We will have wine.”
“I will be back.” Before Dmitry had gone three steps, the ground beneath him quivered and shook and rolled, then snapped back into solid earth again.
The old man laughed. “That was an earthquake. We have many of those here. There is nothing to worry about. The old stories say it is because Poseidon is angry out to sea. He strikes the ground with his trident and causes the earth to tremble.” He nodded out at the Adriatic. “Somewhere out there, a storm is brewing. You will see.”
Dmitry nodded and continued on. To the west, the sky was darkening, obscuring the setting sun. It would be twilight in another three hours or so. He hoped to have located Lourds—or at least Linko—in that time.
50
Temple of Hades Ruins
Elis
Peloponnese Peninsula
Hellenic Republic (Greece)
February 23, 2013
The second well was in worse shape than the first. More stones had been scavenged, leaving almost nothing of the original retaining walls. Dark patches of earth filled with roots and worms and grubs marred the walls. A few wine bottles and the remains of a campfire occupied one corner.
Fitrat smiled at the ashes and the bottles. “Boys trying to be men.”
“Thousands of years ago, you would have probably found the same thing in many abandoned or out-of-the-way places like this, only they would have been wineskins, not bottles.”
“We do not change so much over all this time.”
“Not really.” Lourds swept the walls with his flashlight. “It’s getting darker.”
“A storm is rolling in from the sea.” Fitrat sniffed. “You can smell it.”
Lourds had noticed the changes in the weather as well. “Perhaps we should head back for the night. There’s no sense in staying out here and getting wet.”
Fitrat nodded. “I would like a chance to eat a meal made over a campfire rather than trail bars inside a tent. Even though we will only be opening cans, that is better than granola.”
Lourds chuckled. “It’s a shame you can’t just whip up something while we’re out here.”
Fitrat shrugged. “Perhaps we could buy a goat from one of the men in the town.”
“Hey.” Rahimi stood at the top of the well. “I found another well.”
“Another one?” Lourds started up from the well, and he felt a spark of excitement. He took the small walkie-talkie the team had purchased to communicate while on the exploration from his backpack. “Adonis?”
“Yes?”
“Have you found anything that looks like wells where you are?”
Marias was silent for a moment. “Two, but they go nowhere. Why?”
“I have an idea. I need you to mark those wells with something we can see from a distance. Use the orange fluorescent spray paint. Then we need to meet up on the hill.”
***
Twenty minutes later, they gathered on the small rise that overlooked the ruins and the vicinity they’d been searching. Lourds held a copy of the strange geometrical shape they’d made by connecting the mysterious dots on the back of the Oracle scroll.
Marias peered over his shoulder as he consulted the map.
“We’ve found five wells so far.” Lourds pointed down the hill to where the orange Xs glowed in the gathering gloom. “See how the ones we marked correspond to