The Lost Labyrinth Read Online Free PDF Page B

who knows Alexandria well enough to have credibility with the audience and to answer questions intelligently. Someone the delegates will accept as a suitable replacement.’
    ‘ Me ?’ asked Gaille in surprise. ‘But I don’t know Alexandria anything like well enough. Honestly, I don’t.’
    Nico stared blankly at her for a moment. The equality of women was a part of modern life he’d never quite got used to. ‘I wasn’t thinking about you so much,’ he said carefully. ‘I was thinking more about Knox.’
    Her expression flickered, as though she’d read his mind; but then she nodded. ‘Get him out ofgaol tonight and he’ll do it for you. You have my word.’
    ‘And you can speak for him, can you?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Gaille emphatically. ‘I can.’

II
    There was a boiler in the top corner of the police interview room. Every so often it would click on and start heating up like a kettle, and its pipes would rattle and clank for a few moments before it abruptly switched itself off again. What with the only window painted shut, the room was unpleasantly humid and the walls were sweating like a fever. Knox, too, could feel moisture prickling all over him, disconcertingly like guilt. He rocked back in his chair and flexed his fingers together, striving to keep his memories at bay. But it was no use, they came at him like frames in a slide-show. Augustin on the hotel room floor, blood oozing from his scalp; the paramedics strapping him to their stretcher; Claire’s wails and ravaged face as she’d clutched his hand.
    Knox had first met Augustin ten years before. The Frenchman had arranged a drinks party in honour of Richard Mitchell, Knox’s old mentor, inviting all of Alexandria’s leading archaeologists and citizenry. Richard, typically, had been waylaidat Pastroudi’s by a gorgeous young waiter with fluttery eyelashes and a slight lisp who’d kept bringing them pastries they hadn’t ordered, so he’d sent Knox on ahead to make his excuses. Augustin’s eruptions of Gallic temper were legendary, so Knox had feared for his eardrums; but it hadn’t been like that at all. He and Knox had got on from the start, one of those rare friendships that arrives fully formed, which they’d both known even then would endure. Any time Knox had been in trouble since, it had been to Augustin he’d turned first; and never once had he been let down. So what did it say about him that Augustin had taken such a savage beating while he’d just stood there and watched?
    The door pushed open abruptly. Theofanis, the sprightly police officer who’d taken Knox’s statement earlier, walked back in. A second man followed. He was informally dressed, though from his manner and the way Theofanis deferred to him, he was obviously the boss. He came to stand in front of Knox and glared down at him. ‘You speak Greek, yes?’
    ‘I get by,’ agreed Knox. He’d studied the ancient language at Cambridge before adding its modern counterpart in less happy circumstances in Thessaloniki ten years before, running a failed campaign to gain justice for his murdered parents and sister.
    ‘I am Chief Inspector Angelos Migiakis,’ he said.He had an unhealthy, man-in-the moon kind of face, with a partial eclipse of black beard. ‘I am taking personal charge of this case.’ He jabbed Knox’s statement at his face. ‘Theofanis tells me you’re the one who found Alexander’s tomb. He tells me you’re quite the celebrity.’
    ‘I helped find Alexander’s tomb, yes.’
    ‘You think this entitles you and your friends to assault my officers while they’re carrying out their duty?’
    ‘Since when has it been the duty of the Greek police to grope women and put their husbands in hospital?’
    ‘There was a dying man in the room. My officers were taking charge of the scene, as they’re supposed to do.’
    Knox closed his eyes. It was the first confirmation he’d had that Claire’s efforts to keep Petitier alive had failed. ‘He’s dead,