The Revelation Relic by Rob Jones

Author:Rob Jones [Jones, Rob]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2020-06-20T23:00:00+00:00

*

Sitting on the Hill of the Muses, the Acropolis had dominated Athens since the fifth century BC. Today, the breathtaking view north from the terrace just below the ancient citadel filled Kostas Venizelos’s apartment window and struck Jodie Priest with awe. As she stared at the hazy sunset slopes of Mount Parnitha away in the distance, a good part of her never wanted to leave this place.

“I never saw anything like this before in my whole life.”

Blanco was pleased she was impressed by it. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Amy put down her bag and gave a long sigh of relief to finally be somewhere safe. Turning to her old friend, she said, “Sorry it’s been such a long time, Kostas.”

Venizelos walked over to her. He was holding a bottle of champagne in one hand and waved away her apology with the other as he gave her a long, close hug. “It’s been a long time since we saw each other, Amy. When was it, exactly?”

“I think it was during the Bonetti trial,” she said, her face scrunching up in the sunset as she tried to remember. Her memories of the Manhattan art dealer’s smuggling trial came flooding back, including the raid on the Queens warehouse that had led to his arrest. “You gave evidence relating to some ancient Greek bronzes he was trying to get into the US.”

“But that was years ago! Either no one is smuggling Greek antiquities into your country or you’ve been using another expert.” He untwirled the champagne cork ceinture and pulled the muselet free of the bottle. “Be honest, Amy. Are you seeing another expert behind my back?”

She slapped his arm. “Stop being silly, Kostas.”

“At least you are safe now,” he said. “From what you told me in your call, you are all lucky to be alive.”

“We were lucky to get away with nothing more than a few cuts and bruises,” she replied.

“Too right,” Hunter said. “When that helicopter turned up I thought we were finished.”

“A helicopter?” the Greek man asked. “In the middle of Rome?”

Amy nodded. “Right bang smack in the heart of the old town.”

“But how could such a thing get past air traffic control?” he asked, staggered.

“Perhaps Neverov has friends in high places,” Quinn said.

“Maybe,” Amy said. “But considering what he did to Giuseppe Gallo, it sure ain’t the Creed.”

“The Creed?” Venizelos asked.

Amy frowned. “Another time.”

“Sounds interesting, but now come with me out to the patio.”

Venizelos led them outside, twisted the bottle and popped the cork, arresting its flight with his left palm. Bubbles flowed from the top of the green bottle as he set the cork down on the table and began to pour a glass for everyone. Handing them around, he made sure everyone had one in their hand before he put the bottle down and raised his own glass.

“To my old friend Amy Fox, and the brand new HARPA team.”

They repeated the toast and drank a sip. Hunter enjoyed the taste of the quality wine and turned his face into the setting sun.

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