The Lost Throne

61

Both Payne and Allison stared at Jones, trying to determine if he was serious. They realized he was when he made them feel the object for themselves.

Allison went first. She noticed the same crinkling as Jones. “It feels like paper.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said with a grin.

Payne rolled his eyes as he took his turn. “I’m kind of hoping you’re wrong. Otherwise you’re going to be a bigger pain in the ass than normal.”

“I don’t know about bigger. But I’ll definitely be richer.”

Payne smiled. “Don’t buy a mansion just yet. We have to see what it is first.”

“And how are we going to do that?” Allison wondered.

Jones made a cutting motion with his two fingers. “Snip, snip.”

“Wait. You’re going to cut the coat?”

He nodded. “You’re damn right I’m going to cut the coat. But just the lining. It’s not like I’m going to take off a whole sleeve.”

“Come on, guys. There has to be a better way.”

Jones turned toward Jarkko, who was steering the boat at the front. “Hey, Jarkko! Do you have any X-ray gear on here?”

Jarkko stared at him. “You mean X-rated movies?”

“Not X-rated,” he shouted. “X-ray.”

“X-ray? What is that? Is that more sexy than X-rated?”

“Forget it. Don’t worry about it.”

Jarkko threw his arms up in frustration. “How will Jarkko learn if you not explain!”

“Sorry,” Jones apologized to Allison. “No X-rays on board. We’re gonna have to cut it.”

She sighed. “Fine! Cut the lining. But promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Of course I’ll be careful. I don’t want to cut the paper.”

“I meant with the coat!”

Jones glanced at Payne and grinned. “Man, I love revving her up. It’s so easy.”

Payne smiled as he patted Jones on the arm. “Before you start, let me tell Jarkko to stop the engine. The smoother the ride, the better.”

“Good idea.”

Jarkko cut the motor and the boat slowed to an easy crawl. Because of a lack of storms in the area, the winds were calmer than normal and so were the waves. Allison spread the garment bag across the bench, and Jones laid the coat on top. Their goal was to do as little damage as possible, whether that was from grime or the tip of his knife.

The first cut was along the edge of the seam. A tiny ripping sound was heard, followed by a loud groan from Allison. Jones made her turn around before he continued. The process was easier than he had expected. After getting through the first layer of lining, he noticed a small compartment had been stitched into the coat.

Jones stuck his fingers inside and felt an object. “There’s something in here.”

“What is it?” she wondered.

“I don’t know. I can’t get it out. My hands are too big.”

“Here,” she said. “Let me try. Or you might rip it.”

After they switched spots, she stuck her slender fingers inside the secret pocket. With more wiggle room than Jones, she was able to finesse the object out, carefully sliding it through the gap in the lining until she held it in her hands.

It was an old piece of paper, folded and yellowed with age.

“What does it say?” Jones asked.

“I don’t know,” she said excitedly. “Someone move the coat.”

At this point Payne was tempted to chuck it overboard; he was much more concerned with the paper than the coat. Instead, he carefully hung it on its original hanger while Allison laid the document on top of the garment bag. Then, using the tip of her fingernail, she carefully unfolded it, trying not to smudge the writing.

“It feels so brittle. I don’t want to turn it too quickly or it might tear.”

Jones glanced over her shoulder. “I swear to God, if Ivan dry-cleaned this coat, I’m going to kill the bastard.”

“It’s not that,” she assured him as she kept unfolding the paper. “It’s in pretty good shape for its age. I just don’t want to take any chances.”

Finally, after several seconds, the document was fully revealed. She held it flat with the tips of her fingers, making sure that a gust of wind didn’t blow it overboard. Despite its age, the document was still legible, penned by a steady hand. It was written in Greek, a language that none of them could speak, yet all of them knew what they were staring at.

“Holy shit,” Jones mumbled. “It’s a fucking map.”

The comment made Allison grin. “The correct term is treasure map, but—”

“Jon,” Jones blurted, “it’s a fucking treasure map.”

Payne laughed at his friend’s joy. “I see that, but what does it say?”

“I don’t know! I can’t read Greek, but I recognize the most important letter of all.”

Payne glanced down at the map. A mountain was drawn in the middle of a large landmass that was surrounded by water. Bays and inlets were labeled with Greek words, as were various trails up the mountain. Payne stared at the words, trying to figure out what letter Jones had been referring to, but he had no idea. “Which letter is most important?”

Jones plopped his finger on the map about halfway up the mountain.

A single location had been labeled with the Greek letter chi.

A letter that looks exactly like a capital X.

“Chi marks the spot!”

After their initial burst of enthusiasm, they realized they had no idea where this mountain was located — or if it still existed. Just because it was labeled in Greek didn’t mean that it was in Greece. Schliemann had traveled all over the globe, so it could’ve been anywhere. And since they were floating in the middle of the Gulf of Finland, they weren’t able to access the Internet on Allison’s computer. Research would have to wait until they reached the mainland.

They debated a variety of things for the next ten minutes. Allison and Jones did most of the talking, since they were most familiar with Greek history. Payne was ready to make a point when he felt a large hand on his shoulder. It was Jarkko. He was curious about their argument.

“Sorry to disturb. But can you not fight while boat is moving?”

Payne nodded. “You’re absolutely right. We’re wasting valuable time.”

“What is that?” he asked as he pointed to the map in Allison’s hand. “You are going to Greece and not invite Jarkko?”

Jones glanced at him, surprised. “Wait. You know this place?”

“Of course! Remember, Jarkko keeps yacht in Greece. Jarkko knows entire Aegean.”

“Hold up. You actually know where this is?”

“What, you no understand Jarkko? Jarkko knows this place. Jarkko hates this place.”

Jones asked, “You hate it?”

“Of course Jarkko hates. No women. No drink. No fun. Just monks and guns.”

“What in the hell are you talking about?”

Jarkko looked at Payne. “Is Jarkko slurring? It is too early to slur. Maybe Jon should drive?”

Payne signaled Jones to shut up. Then he asked a question of his own. “What’s the name of the mountain?”

“That is Mount Athos. It is home to Orthodox monks. Holy land to Greeks.”

“Have you been there?”

“One day Jarkko run out of supplies. Jarkko tried to dock near mountain but guards with guns would not allow. Land is holy. Permission must be granted by fat monk in charge.”

Payne turned his attention to Allison. “Have you ever heard of this place?”

She nodded. “I’ve heard of it. But I don’t know much about it. It’s in northern Greece, far away from Athens. As far as I know, it’s filled with monasteries and nothing else.”

“How far from Constantinople?”

She gave it some thought. “Not far at all. Why?”

“Close enough to move a statue to?”

“It’s much closer than Olympia. So the answer is definitely yes.”

Payne looked at Jones. “What do you think?”

“What do I think? I think there has to be a reason that armed guards are protecting a bunch of monks in the middle of nowhere.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

Jarkko raised his hand. “May Jarkko ask question?”

“Go on,” Payne answered.

“Will you need guide to Mount Athos?”

Payne smiled. “Why? Are you offering?”

“Yes, if you are paying. Are you paying?”

He nodded. “Yes, I’d be paying.”

“Then Jarkko is offering! When you want to leave?”

“As soon as possible.”

Jarkko grinned. “We can leave soon. But first, we must drink!”