After the main, Riley lowered his dinner fork. “I’m getting the dark chocolate brownie, white chocolate sauce and crème fraiche for dessert”

  “Same,” Abigail said without thinking. She inadvertently glanced at Ellis who shot her a smug smile but thankfully remained silent this time.

  “In fact,” Riley continued, “I think we should also both get the lemon posset, mixed berry compote with shortbread and the selection of cheeses with crackers and chutney.”

  Abigail was delighted Riley enjoyed desserts. She disliked men who didn’t order dessert at a restaurant. She’d dated one such man, a long time ago. Their relationship didn’t last long.

  On the drive to Professor Briggs’s cottage, Abigail wished it wasn’t dark. She wished she could see the afternoon sun kiss the thatched roofs of the small white houses as they passed by. England was nothing if not picturesque.

  Professor Briggs lived on the outskirts of a small village south of Oxfordshire.

  “Err, just a bit of a warning—the professor likes cats,” Abigail said as they drew nearer to the cottage.

  “How many cats does he have?” Thatcher inquired.

  “Just one as far as I know,” Abigail replied. “And he’s eccentric. You know those old jokes about absent-minded professors? Well, that’s him.”

  Abigail knocked on the door. There was a note on the door, something about not letting the cat out written in beautiful cursive, but Abigail was too nervous to read it. After all, she had been the professor’s research assistant back when she was a student years ago, and the reverence she had for him had never left her.

  The professor opened the door. “Abigail! Is that you?”

  “Yes…”

  He interrupted her. “But why didn’t you call? You’re a long way from home. Still, I’m delighted to see you. Come in.”

  Abigail was dismayed to see that Professor Briggs was in a wheelchair. A cat jumped from his lap and scooted past Abigail.

  “William Shakespaw isn’t allowed outside,” Briggs called out.

  Riley scooped up the cat and returned him to the professor’s lap.

  “Thank you, err…”

  “Riley.”

  “He’s a lot cuter than your usual type,” the professor said.

  Abigail was aghast. “He’s not my boyfriend, Professor.”

  “Thanks,” Riley muttered. “Also ouch! You didn’t have to say that so quickly.”

  Thatcher chuckled, while Ellis simply grunted.

  Abigail found herself blushing furiously as the professor showed them into his sitting room. She soon forgot her own embarrassment when she saw the room was in a terrible state of disarray. She wondered who was looking after the professor, if anyone. She could not ask him in front of the men and embarrass him, but she made a mental note to do something about it.

  Riley introduced the men. The professor smiled and nodded at everyone. “I’ll make us a cup of tea and you can tell me why you’re all here.”

  The professor accelerated his electric wheelchair to the kitchen to make them all a cup of tea. He presently returned with a tray balanced awkwardly on his lap. Abigail found it hard to take the tea, because William Shakespaw had taken a liking to chewing on her fingers. Riley had to hold her teacup while Thacker tempted the cat off her with a treat.

  “I must admit,” the professor said, stirring his tea, “when I saw you on my doorstep I was a little shocked.”

  “It’s about your dig at Sardis,” Abigail said, looking at Riley.

  He took the hint and showed Briggs his I.D. “I’m afraid a terrorist group, or rather, an organization that funds terrorist groups, is close to discovering the location of Croesus’s treasure.”

  The professor gasped. Riley pushed on. “There’s a copper scroll that states the treasure was kept in five locations. The bulk of it was kept in a Temple of Artemis.”

  Abigail was keen to explain further. “I saw the copper scroll and it’s broken, but there were two words before the break: ‘No Amazons.’”

  Briggs nodded. “So, not the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus.”

  Abigail nodded. “That’s exactly what I thought. And we’ve been told it’s a subterranean temple, so we wanted to know the location of the tunnel you found.”

  The professor stroked his beard. “I was certain that a tunnel led to a subterranean Temple of Artemis. Is this why poor Jason died? Such a nice young lad.”

  Abigail had a lump in her throat. “Yes, sadly.”

  “He was coming to see me, you know.”

  The three men were at once on full alert. It was Thacker who spoke first. “What did he say?”

  The professor set down his teacup. “He wanted to ask me about my time on the dig near Sardis. He sent me a package.”

  “What was in it?” Riley asked urgently.

  The professor shrugged. “No idea. I haven’t had a chance to collect it yet, not with my leg. He sent it to my Post Office box.”

  Riley shifted in his seat. “Professor, please don’t mention the location of the Post Office box aloud, not yet, in case there are surveillance devices. And Professor, I need you to come with us to Sardis. I need you to show us where the entrance is.”

  The professor looked down at his wheelchair. “My days of exploring ancient ruins are long over, boy. Besides, you wouldn’t want an old man slowing you down.”

  “It’s just we don’t know the location of the entrance, Professor,” Abigail said gently.

  “I can give you directions. Better yet, I can draw you a map. You there—Ellis—can you reach that atlas?” He gestured to a wall of bookshelves. From where Abigail was sitting, she could see works by Aristotle, Plato, Homer, all the Greek playwrights, as well as Herodotus’s Histories. ‘Histories’ was actually an ancient Greek word, which meant ‘Inquiries’ in English. English had taken the word ‘histories’ straight from the Greek. Herodotus was practically a contemporary of Croesus, having been born sixty or so years after Croesus’s demise.

  The professor gestured wildly. “No, the other one. Yes. This book has been in my family for a hundred years,” Briggs said, taking the atlas from Ellis. “I’ll write it all down in here.”

  Abigail looked at the page with dismay. “That’s a bit too general. We’ll need something more specific than that.”

  Briggs jabbed his finger on the open page. “There’s a dusty track south of the archeological site. Keep going along it until you reach the Temple of Artemis. Of course, there are ruins of a Byzantine chapel inside that temple. Were you aware of that, Abigail?”

  Before Abigail had a chance to respond, Riley stood up. “Ellis and Thatcher, would you go outside and make sure we weren’t followed?”

  They left, looking none too pleased. Riley turned to Briggs. “Professor, we’re running out of time. Could you tell me precisely where the tunnel is?”

  “I’ll do better than that.” Briggs pulled some photographs from the pages of the atlas. “I took several photos so I’d be able to find it again.” He handed them to Riley.

  Abigail looked over his shoulder.

  Briggs nodded. “I’ve marked the correct entrance with a red pen. All those other tunnels you see are simply tunnels to the Acropolis North. I was just starting to excavate those tunnels when I found disarticulated human bones along with plenty of gold jewelry. The evidence suggested they were robbers who had fallen victim to an earthquake. It made me think here was a repository of treasure directly under the Acropolis.”

  He muttered to himself. “But no one agreed with me. They were too busy looking for burial mounds under Karnıyarık Tepe in the Great Cemetery.”

  Riley rolled the photographs carefully and tucked them in an inside pocket of his jacket. “Professor, may I have the key to your Post Office box? We will return the key and the contents of the box to you as soon as possible.”

  Briggs pointed to a wooden key holder hanging next to the front door. “The key is in that. Bring it to me, would you?”

  Riley did as he asked. The professor extracted the key and handed it to Briggs. “Do you have any idea what Professor Hobbs sent you?”

  Briggs shook his head. “He didn’t say. He sent a text saying it was something I’d find of interest.”

  Ellis and Thatcher walked in the front door. Thatcher caught Riley’s eye and shook his head.

  “Professor, thank you,” Riley said. “I’m afraid we will need to extract you for your own safety. It shouldn’t be for too long, though.”

  “Oh dear.” The professor hugged the cat close to his chest. “What about William?”

  Riley looked thoughtful for a minute. “Yes, the cat can go with you.”

  “Everything will be fine,” Abigail assured the professor. “I trust Riley with my life.”

  “If you trust Riley with your life then why aren’t you dating him? You clearly think he’s a dashing young man.”

  Thatcher boomed with laugher. Ellis rolled his eyes. Riley cleared his throat awkwardly, but when Abigail finally had the courage to look at him, he did look pleased with himself.

  “Will my cat and I be going to a pleasant place?” the professor continued. “Maybe a place with roses? I do love roses.”

  Riley stood. “You had best gather your things, Professor. You’ll be leaving soon.”

  “I understand,” the Professor said as he left the sitting room, wheeled out by Ellis.

  Riley made a call. He didn’t say much, but Abigail overhead him request they put a vase of roses in the house for the professor.

  18

  OXFORDSHIRE

  “It’s a good thing that old professor lives in such a remote location,” the leader said to his men. “Remember, we need to take him alive and unharmed. We need him for backup in case the woman doesn’t lead us to the treasure.”

  The agents were huddled in the heavily wooded landscape of the Chilterns.

  “What about the agents sent to extract him?” Number Five asked him. “Do we need to take them alive too?”

  The leader ground his teeth. “You ask stupid questions. Obviously, you don’t need to keep them alive. Why would you need to keep them alive? They don’t know anything of any use to us.”

  “They know the location of at least one of RHTF’s safe houses,” the man said.

  “So?” The leader jutted out his chin in a belligerent manner. “Does Vortex care where their safe houses are? No. Do we care where their safe houses are? No. We’re here to follow orders and that’s all. We’re here to get this professor and take him unharmed. Understood?”

  “Yes.” Number Five appeared suitably chastened.

  The leader shook his head. Vortex had informed him that the RHTF agents were on their way to Professor Briggs’s house. In fact they were no doubt speaking with him now. The leader idly wondered how Vortex had accessed the information. Maybe the professor had a Facebook page. Everybody did these days, it seemed. It certainly made all the intelligence agencies’ work a lot easier.

  Now, with a broken leg and confined to a wheelchair, Professor Briggs wouldn’t be showing anybody any international locations. That meant he would be extracted and taken to a safe location. RHTF had already extracted Eymen Bulut’s widow, much to the leader’s irritation. And he hadn’t been able to get his hands on Murat either. That man had disappeared off the face of the earth, but given his trade in petty illegal weapons, the leader wasn’t surprised.

  He wondered what sort of vehicle they would use to extract the professor. He hoped the other agents with the woman would go in a different direction, because he certainly didn’t want to deal with them. And he needed that woman out of harm’s way for the moment, so she could lead them to the Croesus treasure.

  The leader’s eyes lit up as he thought of the vast repositories of treasure. He trembled with excitement. The treasure had to be worth billions of dollars. Vortex were paying him handsomely for this and promised him a bonus if he delivered the treasure.

  And, the leader thought, he would give himself a nice bonus. Vortex would never know if some pieces of gold jewelry were missing from the treasure, given no one knew how much treasure was there in the first place.

  Now all he had to do was make sure he got his hands on this professor. Apparently, the professor was old and feeble and unable to defend himself. That made the leader’s job easier. He figured there would be two people accompanying him and his men would outnumber them.

  He looked around. “Don’t slacken off, any of you! Are you ready?”

  The men all answered in the affirmative.

  “Now remember, the professor can’t be harmed. He’s elderly and frail so whatever you do, don’t intimidate him. We don’t want to give him a heart attack. If he dies, we’ll have to answer to Vortex.” The leader gave an involuntary shudder.

  “But won’t just the sight of us give him a heart attack?” Number Five asked.

  The leader ground his teeth. Maybe in the mêlée he would shoot Number Five and report to Vortex that the RHTF agents had killed him. He smiled to himself and nodded, leaving Number Five’s question unanswered.

  He looked at the tree lying across the road. He afforded himself a smug smile of satisfaction. There were two roads leading from the professor’s house. One road was a rarely used lane and that lane was where they now waited. He was betting the RHTF agents with the woman wouldn’t go this way. He certainly hoped not. If they did, it would ruin his entire plan.

  The leader shivered with the cold. He wasn’t partial to English winters, but at least it was the end of winter and it wasn’t snowing. Still, the bite to the air suggested it might sleet at any moment.

  For all his skills, patience was not one of them. The leader hopped from foot to foot to stay warm while letting out a string of obscenities.

  He was beginning to wonder whether the extraction teams had taken the professor on the other road, when he saw lights approaching. “Positions,” he called. “And don’t act until you make sure it’s them. We don’t want to shoot civilians and draw the attention of the local constabulary.” He added those words for Number Five’s benefit. The man really was an imbecile. Still, he wouldn’t have to worry about him much longer, one way or another.

  The large van screeched to a halt when it rounded the corner and came upon the tree trunk lying across the road. The driver immediately threw the car into reverse, but someone shot out the tires.

  The leader was furious. Hadn’t he just made a speech about identifying the occupants of the vehicle? He would lay odds Number Five was the culprit.

  The four men ran to the car while the leader took cover by a beech tree. The windows were tinted and the leader was unable to see inside from his position.

  The two front doors opened and he saw people roll out. The doors immediately shut and the lights flashed, signaling that the car had been locked remotely.

  The leader swore under his breath. Gunfire was exchanged and he dived behind the cover of the beech tree.

  The leader ran for the back of the vehicle. He knew the agents were out of the vehicle firing on his men and his men were firing back. Nobody knew he was there. He figured he could gain entrance to the front of the van through the back doors.

  He crept up behind the vehicle. He inserted the crowbar between the bars, then, bracing his foot against the door, he heaved with all his might. Despite the cold, sweat broke out on his forehead from the exertion. The doors opened a crack. With one more wrench of the crowbar, the doors flew open. The leader smiled to himself as he climbed inside.

  He was relieved to see the professor was unharmed. The elderly man was sitting, partly obscured by a green and blue tartan blanket, on a wheelchair secured to a bar behind him.

  The professor lifted his head and reproduced a gun from under the blanket.

  It took the leader a moment to realize that he’d been had. This was a decoy professor in a decoy vehicle. He’d been careless and had let his guard down. He had committed the cardinal sin—he had under-estimated his opposition. Now he was about to pay the price.

  The gunfire stopped just as another vehicle arrived. The man pretending to be the professor jerked his gun at the leader, signaling him to move to the Chevrolet large-size van directly behind the van they were now in. The leader and his men were bundled unceremoniously into the back.

  There was no sign of Number Five. Maybe he had run away.

  The leader clenched his fists into balls.

  19

  OXFORDSHIRE

  When the call came, Riley went into the kitchen to take it. He had stayed at the professor’s house to wait for the news. Otherwise, they would be en route to the post office, and he didn’t want Thatcher or Ellis to overhear the conversation with the extraction team. Apart from his professional duties, Abigail’s safety was foremost on his mind.

  “Thanks,” he said into the phone before hanging up. His expression was grim. It was just as he had suspected, although the thought brought him no relief.

  One problem presented itself: how was Vortex getting the information? Was it from Ellis or Thatcher—maybe both? How else would Vortex know their moves? Thankfully, he alone had known about the decoy extraction team.

  The professor’s house clearly hadn’t been bugged because Vortex hadn’t known about the professor, not until Riley’s visit. Riley cast a glance around the kitchen. It didn’t seem as though the professor had entertained visitors lately. Piles of unwashed plates were stacked on the countertop, emitting the unpleasant odor of stale food waste. There were no pizza boxes or other signs of takeout. Riley wondered what the professor had been eating, until he noticed the trashcan was overflowing with half-eaten frozen meals, the uppermost ones spotted with mold. Ants circled the bowl of half-eaten cat food on the floor.

  At least the professor was safe, and it had been the decoy vehicle that had been ambushed. Riley was glad the agents were unharmed. The RHTF team had apprehended four Vortex agents, but one had gotten away.