Chapter 33

David Carter leant against the black metal, chest-high patio railing and gazed out across the lush green mountains of surrounding Meteora as the sun beat down upon him. As far as views went, it was one of the most naturally impressive he had ever seen, and the ex-don was thoroughly enjoying the feeling of crisp, clean air seeping into his lungs.

The train journey had gone smoothly despite a few angry glares from the ticket collector, who seemed to feel obliged to keep an eye on Carter for the rest of the journey. On arrival, he had caught a taxi to the small village of Kastraka, located at the base of the Meteora mountains, which housed six working monasteries including the second largest, Varlaam, which he was now looking down from. Constructed by monks during the fourteenth century, and built upon gigantic naturally formed pillars of rock soaring hundreds of metres into the sky, these retreats had been designed specifically to keep unwanted visitors from encroaching on the monastic hermits’ way of life…or lack of, it to be more precise. In fact, until the modern age of tourism had dawned and steps had been carved into the rock face, the only way to reach them was by a single rope-and-net pulley system. As the legend went, the rope was never replaced until the previous one had snapped of its own accord, which was seen as God’s will – which sounded peachy unless you were the one using it when it finally succumbed to wear and tear. More interesting still was the fact that the monks had initially taken refuge in caves once occupied by Ice Age man over twenty thousand years earlier, and maybe as much as fifty thousand. Of course, Carter known little about the subject until he picked up the free pamphlet on arrival, and following Winters’s instructions that he should wait until contacted, he had now read it multiple times.

Only a few monks still occupied the monasteries today, due to the high level of tourism which offered the wrong type of ambience for hermits. But, as Carter looked down at the awesome scenery below, he could see why so many men had decided to settle here in years past. On one side a lush green valley weaved its way between two mountain ridges dense with foliage, and on the other side – and visible from where he was standing – lay the flat plains surrounding Kastraka village, with mountains looming in the distance.

For years, Carter’s routine had involved spending time mainly indoors rather than outdoors, whether in classrooms, or in his house or car, but seeing such an awe-inspiring sight now awakened in him a sense that he had been missing out on so much – trapped inside a little bubble of going back and forth in his daily shuffle of existence. Of course that was exactly how a majority of the world spent their lives but, as he took in this sight, he made himself a promise to get out and about more often, and to make the most of it. His wife’s death had caused him to retreat into himself and hide there gloomily but the last few days had woken him out of that place, that mindset, and he felt as if a slate had been wiped clean and he could finally allow himself a new start.

‘Mr Harker?’ someone called out behind him, and he turned to see a man with short, curly brown hair, who was wearing dark jeans and a plaid shirt rolled up at the sleeves. ‘Professor Alex Harker?’

Carter moved to greet the man. ‘Yes, and you are?’ He shook the man’s now extended hand.

‘Alec Contos. I manage the tourism side of things. It’s a real pleasure to meet you.’

‘Likewise,’ Carter replied, instinctively assessing the man’s physical prowess, which seemed nothing to write home about. Contos was only five foot tall with narrow shoulders and Carter felt confident he could defend himself, should the need arise.

‘Please follow me. There is much for us to discuss.’

With a polite nod but a degree of apprehension, Carter followed him off the patio and into the tight assembly of buildings that made up Varlaam monastery. What exactly was there to discuss? Why not just give me the pages? he thought.

‘When I received the call from your office, it came as a surprise but a most welcome one,’ Contos explained with genuine enthusiasm in his voice, as he led Carter up some zigzagging stone steps and along the tight path running between the main places of worship.

‘You’re welcome,’ Carter replied, though having no idea what the fellow was referring to.

‘No, it is you who is most welcome, Professor,’ Contos continued with a wide smile. On reaching a small wooden door, he opened it and waved Carter inside. ‘Please, come in.’

Carter paused at the open doorway and peeked inside sheepishly but, seeing only an empty office with several seats and a desk, he happily ventured inside before Contos closed the door and sat down behind the desk. ‘Can I get you a coffee or tea?’ he offered, as Carter sat down on a grey plastic chair.

‘No, I’m fine, thank you.’ Carter took another look around the medium-sized room containing only furniture, filing cabinets, a coffee percolator on a side table, and a desktop PC.

‘Very well, Professor, then let me say how excited I am by your offer. I can assure you that your film crew will be allowed access to every section of the Meteora monasteries.’

‘That is good to know,’ Carter replied, not missing a beat even though he still did not have the faintest idea what Contos was talking about.

‘Will you be doing any filming today?’

‘No, no, today is just to do a recce, scope the place out, as it were, before we start.’

‘Very good,’ Contos replied, with no sign of his enthusiasm waning as he rested his elbows on the table. ‘I must tell you that your documentary on Meteora alone is going to be of great benefit to us, but when your office mentioned the donation to be made by Cambridge University, I was…well, stunned.’

‘Not at all, Mr Contos. It seemed the least we could do, considering the access we are being given.’ Carter found himself actually enjoying this role-playing and he had to stop himself from indulging in further amateur dramatics.

‘Don’t be so modest, Professor. Two hundred thousand pounds is, without doubt, one of the most generous donations we have ever received.’ The mention of such a large sum of money left Carter looking shocked, and Contos’s eyebrows suddenly contracted. ‘The donation is still on offer?’

‘Yes, of course. It’s just… I thought it was three hundred thousand.’

This new amount mentioned had Contos beaming from ear to ear. ‘Three hundred thousand! I just don’t know what to say.’

‘Neither do I,’ Carter replied shakily, and he forced a smile, deciding that it was perhaps best now to move on to the real reason he was here, given that there was not a cat’s chance in hell he was going to hand over that amount of money, even if he had it to spare…which he of course didn’t. ‘My office said you would have something for me. A package?’

The request had Contos’s eyebrows lowering again, and he looked bemused. ‘A package?’

‘Yes, a package…maybe some pages, of the vellum variety.’

It was clear that Contos now had no idea what he was talking about and he shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘I think I do,’ boomed a voice behind them, and Carter swivelled in his seat to see the cold eyes of Vlad staring at him from the half-open doorway. ‘In fact I’m sure of it.’

Carter froze with an involuntary gulp as Vlad made his way inside, followed by two smartly dressed women in black suits and ties. He then approached the desk with one hand outstretched.

‘I’m Mr Hodgkinson, part of a delegation from Cambridge University.’

Contos stood up and warmly shook Vlad’s hand. ‘It’s a pleasure, Mr Hodgkinson. I was just telling Professor Harker how excited we are about the making of the documentary and your donation.’

Vlad towered over Carter, who now shrank back deep into his seat, looking extremely uncomfortable.

‘Professor Harker, of course. Nice to see you again.’

Carter smiled nervously as the two women took up position on either side of his chair, with one firmly gripping his left shoulder.

‘I was expecting your colleague to be with you, Professor.’ Vlad licked his lips. ‘What a shame… I mean for you.’

The uncomfortable silence that followed was now broken by Contos. ‘Would anyone like some coffee or tea?’

Vlad continued to eye Carter menacingly for a few more moments, then he turned to face their host with an overfriendly smile. ‘A coffee would be delightful, thank you.’

Contos turned around and began heading towards the coffee table, but only made it halfway before one of the women calmly strode forward, pulled something from her pocket and slipped it over the man’s head and around his neck.

An unpleasant gurgling sound arose from Contos as she tightened her grip on the garrotte and he scrabbled frantically at his neck, where the wire was already slicing through, while his legs began to kick up in the air. The woman maintained her grip and, as his legs began to buckle, she pulled him downwards until the top of his spine was pressed against her crouching knee, so as to increase the pressure around the stricken man’s neck.

Carter was now breathing heavily and beginning to sweat profusely. As Contos’s convulsions began to subside and his body went limp, Vlad craned his neck towards him. ‘I want to know where your friend is, “Professor”?’

Possible answers raced through Carter’s mind as he felt the sour breath of Vlad on his cheek. ‘I don’t know…the Templars got him.’

Vlad stood back up and crossed his arms as the garrotte-wielding woman now abandoned Contos’s corpse and resumed her position next to Carter, the wire noose still in her hand dripping droplets of blood onto the light-blue carpet beneath them.

‘Mmm, if that’s true, then it looks like we’re going to have to take out our frustration on you instead,’ Vlad declared, looking distinctly annoyed by the news. ‘And that means you’ve got a date with an electric cattle prod, doesn’t it, porky?’