The Adventures of Logan van Zant: CH III

Pigeons fly in haste as the Fiat slams to a halt on Patision Street. Logan’s knuckles are white from gripping the door handle. He looks at Aurora from the passenger seat; she looks back at him with a smile, “What’s the look for?”she asks.

“Who taught you to drive? Wait, never mind, don’t tell me. . .”

“Cornelius, who else?”

“That’s what I was afraid of. . .”

“He always said, ‘Aurora, drive like your life depends on it,’ so that’s what I do.”

“I’m sure that isn’t what he meant.”

“We made it didn’t we? For an adventurer, you sure don’t have a mind for excitement do you?”

“I’ve had my fill of excitement for a lifetime, this ordeal is just an inconvenience. The sooner I get back to my classroom the better.”

“You know what they say, ‘those who can’t do teach.’”

“Let’s just get inside, the fellow I spoke with on the phone gave us a narrow window to talk.”

Logan and Aurora exit the car and walk toward the Athens Archeological Museum. The stone faces of Apollo and Hera watch from the roof above as they pass between the Ionic columns that tower over the museum entrance. A man with full moon bifocals and horseshoe baldness greets them.

“Professor van Zant?”

“Yes, and you must be-“

“Doctor Galanis, at your service. Do you have the artifact?”

“Of course, is there someplace we can speak in private?”

“Yes, of course. Follow me, come-come, this way.”

Aurora and Logan pass bronze and stone statues, ancient vases, and other artifacts as they follow Doctor Galanis to the museum basement. They enter a room with a table at the center; shelves line the walls with vases. Two narrow open-faced crates lay on the table. Inside of the crates are stone tablets. Aurora picks up a small vase and examines the motif depicted on its exterior. “You sure got some neat-o stuff in here doc.”

“Could you please not touch anything,” Galanis wrenches the vase from Aurora’s hands and caresses it gently before placing it back on the shelf.

“No need to flip your wig, doc. I was just lookin’.”

“What of these Doctor?” Logan asks.

“Ah, yes, you might find those to be of interest to you.”

“What are they?” Aurora asks.

Logan looms over the tablets and studies them. At the center of each tablet is a hole surrounded by a spiral of words from a strange language. “The inscription isn’t in any Greek that I’ve studied, what is it?”

“Carved on these tablets is the dead language of the Minoan. It’s similar to Sanskrit of the Sumerian. In this crate is what we call ‘Line A ’ and this one is ‘Line B.’ We’ve had some success translating Line A, however, Line B has been a bit more elusive. I believe the cipher in your possession will allow me to unveil their secrets.”

“But, how could a Greek artifact end up in a Sumerian tomb?”

“There is a theory, that Crete was settled by a branch of seafaring Sumerians, causing cultural exchange. We’ve found similarities in architecture and religious worship of the bovine. Hence, the myth of the Minotaur can be found in some form in both cultures. These tablets may hold the proof I need to prove this theory, so may I see the cipher?”

Logan pulls the cipher from his satchel. Aurora places her hand on Logan’s forearm.

“Professor, are you sure we can trust him?”

“Right now, we don’t have a choice.”

Aurora let’s go of him; Logan hands the cipher to Galanis who inserts the cipher into a tablet. He gently rotates the cipher and scribbles on a piece of paper. An hour passes.

“He’s a strange fella isn’t he, did you see him go gaga over that vase?”

“It’s his life’s work, what do you expect? He doesn’t need some butterfinger coming along destroying it. . .”

“Hey, I’m not the one who dropped a cursed gem and awoke a mummy.”

“Who did you hear that from? Never mind . . .”

“Cornelius,” they say in unison.

“Did you tell him it was a cipher?” Aurora whispers.

“No. . .”

“Then how would he know? The only people who know what we have are—”

“The Russians,” Galanis interrupts. In his hand is a 9mm pistol. “This is where we depart Mister van Zant. I took the liberty of contacting them after our phone chat. They should be here momentarily to take you into custody.”

“Bastard!” Aurora shouts as she steps aggressively toward Galanis.

“Ah ah, I wouldn’t if I were you Miss Cross,” Galanis raises the pistol at Aurora, “Come come, you would do the same if you were in my position.”

“I’d never give anyone up, you coward!”

Logan steps to shield Aurora, “Just tell us this, what does the translation say?”

“I think not. . . This is my crowning achievement, I won’t let some second rate professor steal my glory.”

Aurora backs up against the shelf; her hand hits a small vase.

“Whatever leverage they have against you, I’m sure we can help sort it out.”

“Leverage? No, I am working with them under my own fruition. I sought out Stalin knowing he had a taste for the paranormal, and this is my ticket to fame!” Galanis holds the translation up.

“Hey doc! Catch!” Aurora shouts as she throws a vase from the shelf. The gun drops to the ground as Galanis catches the vase. Logan picks up the pistol and aims at the doctor.

“Oh dear. . .”

“If you would be so kind as to hand over the translation, doctor?”

Aurora snatches the paper from his hand. “Aurora, get some twine and tie up the good doctor.”

“Ah, ouch, it’s too tight.”

“It’s suppose to be tight,” Aurora says sternly as she knots the twine around Galanis’ wrists, “just stay put and wait for your friends, doc. Let’s beat feet, Professor.”

Logan and Aurora walk briskly to the car, Logan hides the the pistol in his coat. Two men in black suits peer through the Fiat’s windows. “Just keep walking. . .” Logan says as he guides Aurora by the arm.

“Hôlt!” the Russians yell as they draw their pistols.

“Run!” Logan draws the pistol and fires. The Russians take cover behind the Fiat; Logan and Aurora take cover in an alleyway. Pigeons and pedestrians flee at the exchange of gunfire. “Find us something to drive!”

“On it!” Aurora disappears down the alleyway. The gun fight continues; the slide of Logan’s pistol locks back. The gunfire ceases, the Russians begin to advance.

“Aurora!” A Vespa scooter screeches to a halt next to him. “What in the hell is that thing?”

“Our way out of here! Now get on!”

Logan clambers on the back of the scooter; Aurora revs the tiny engine before bursting out of the alleyway into traffic. The Russian gunman fall back and give chase in a black sedan.

Aurora weaves in and out of traffic with the black sedan at their rear. Bullets ricochet off buildings and cars in their wake.

“Head toward the Port of Zea!”

“What? Why!”

“I have a war buddy there! He’ll get us a boat outta here!”

The pursuit continues through Athens’ streets and narrow alleyways. In the distance Aurora can make out the Saronic Gulf. The scooter glides along the port docks; the black sedan has disappeared.

“Poseidon’s Mistress is the ship we’re looking for.”

“There she is!” Aurora points to the small ship anchored in the bay. The black sedan splinters through a stack of wooden crates behind them.

“Go!”

Aurora and Logan race along the port, turn onto a long dock that stretches out into the harbor near Poseidon’s Mistress. The black sedan is at their heels; the scooter is at top speed.

“The dock ends! Aurora, do you hear me!”

“Hope you can swim Professor!”

Logan and Aurora dive into the water as the scooter launches into the bay. The black sedan screeches to a halt. The Russians run to the edge and shoot into the water. The sound of police sirens approach. The Russians speed off in an attempt to elude their fate. Logan and Aurora surface and swim to Poseidon’s Mistress. The ship’s crew pulls them aboard.

“What sort of hell did you idiots bring on my ship!” The captain yells as he pushes through his crew.

Logan lifts himself to his feet, “Good to see you too Henry. . .”

“Van Zant, is that you? No, get off my ship! You’re not dragging me into anymore of your nonsense!”

“Come on Henry, there might be some treasure in it for you. . .”

“That’s what you said last time!”

“And? You got paid didn’t you?”

“Handsomely, Ha ha! Raise the anchor! So where are we off to?”

“Crete!”

Aurora braces herself against the starboard railing of the ship. She looks out across the Mediterranean as the sun sets in the distance. The light of the sun reminds her of marigolds and the last moments of her mother’s life. She unbuttons the leather cuff and looks at the skin on her wrist. Logan appears next to her. “What are you hiding under that thing?” She quickly buttons the cuff.

“It’s nothing, just a tattoo. . .”

“I didn’t take you for a beatnik type, what is it? A song bird?”

Aurora removes the cuff and shows him the seven digit tattoo.

“I’m sorry. . . I - I didn’t know.”

“Not many do. It took a long time to get rid of my accent. Aren’t you gonna ask what camp I was in?”

“Does it matter? They were all the same. I was apart of the liberation of several of them in Germany, I saw what they did to your people. ”

“Some were more cruel than others. But this tattoo is a reminder that I’m just living on borrowed time, and I need to do something with it. That’s what my mother would have wanted.”

“Your mother?”

“She died before being taken to the camp. We were hiding in the floorboards of a farmhouse when the Nazis came knocking. She tried luring them away by running into the field, but they shot her down. The sick bastards were kind enough to let me see her body before they took me away. I don’t remember her face, or the last words she spoke, just the hue of her blood against the yellow marigolds next to her body. Yellow is meant to be the color of happiness, but for me it’s a reminder of impermanence.” A tear falls from her eye; she wipes it away, “what about you Professor, got any dark secrets locked away?” Logan stands in silence, “guess not.”

“I have the same dream every night. Well, it changes here n’there, but it’s essentially the same. I dream of the frozen lake my mother and father died in. My mother’s voice tells me to run for help that I can never reach. Then come visions of the war and the death camps. I tried to help a little Jewish girl come stateside but she disappeared before that could happen. I don’t know whatever became of her. So, yeah, I’ve got my demons to contend with. . . But, anyway, thanks again.”

“For what?”

“Driving like our lives depended on it.”

“Because it did, one of these days you’re gonna have to carry your own weight, I can’t be around all the time.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Logan laughs, “we’ll just have to wait and see what’s waiting for us in Crete.”

To be continued. . .

*Thanks for reading! This is Chapter 3 of Logan’s Adventure, checkout Chapters 1 & 2 to catch up!