The Pegassian Order

Chapter One Elliot Mara ducked into the narrow street where tall, terraced Victorian houses appeared to be squashed together. Their pointed roofs reached upward into the velvety night sky, and thin, knobbly trees shivered in the chilly breeze. She had been laying low in London for over a week now. She thought it best to let the dust settle after carrying out a heist. Courtesy of Nancy Mara, Elliot's deceased mother, the Mara name had become synonymous with art and historical myths. Like her adopted sister, history buff and lecturer, Chloe, Elliot too had a soft spot for history and art, but since her mother's murder, Elliot's interests took a somewhat darker turn. She had spent the years after her mother's murder doggedly hunting for clues throughout the Middle East, in hopes of finding out what led to her mother showing up dead in a dark alley just outside Oman. She had stumbled across mythical treasures, whispers of lost cities such as Ubar, Iram of the Pillars, and more. She had confronted mercenary after mercenary, questioned art dealer upon art dealer, but none could shed a light on the mysterious circumstances surrounding the death of art historian and loving mother, Nancy Mara. Elliot's dedication to hunting down her mother's murderer was unmatched, the problem with possessing such unfettered focus was that Elliot lost focus of all of the other things that were important. The fruitless pursuit of those responsible had cost her everything; her friends, her relationships, her sister and even her career in art dealing. The only item she had to show for all of her obsession and determination was an old silver ring she found tucked away under a floorboard in her mother's house. The phrase engraved along the outside of the ring was in Arabic, and though the ring was easily a few centuries old, Elliot had managed to get the inscription translated, 'this too shall pass.' Reluctant to turn in what little Elliot had of her mother, Elliot tied a knot around the ring and wore it around her neck, as a source of both comfort and torture. She climbed the steps to the apartment she was renting and slipped inside. Her fingertips itched with heat from the brisk walk home. She peeled off her fingerless gloves and shoved them into the pockets of her leather jacket. As she entered the studio apartment, she locked the door behind her and slid a chair beneath the handle, wedging the old lock mechanism in place. The nature of her work as an art thief meant unsavoury individuals would try to track her down more often than not. It kept things interesting, to say the least. Elliot opened the worn black leather satchel and planted a wad of cash on the kitchen counter top for Serena Halliwell, the owner of the discrete apartment, to collect in the morning, well after Elliot had left. Reaching into her jean pocket, Elliot pulled out her phone, turned it on and slid it onto the counter top. She walked over to the fridge and pulled it open, she was hungry and tired. Buzz. Elliot froze. Leaving the fridge door ajar, she turned to face the direction of the sound. Her eyes landed on the illuminated phone screen. ‘New Voicemail', it read. As she picked up the phone, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Nobody had this number. Nobody. Except Chloe. Elliot thought. But she hadn't heard from Chloe in almost two years. Chloe was probably still in Greece, studying mythology in the nooks and crannies of Athens. Pressing the phone to her ear, Elliot looked at the unappealing contents of the fridge and swung the door shut. Another night, another Subway sandwich. She grabbed her satchel and listened to the voicemail as she booted the chair aside and unlocked the front door. As she descended down the staircase and walked out into the cool night, her free hand found the ring around her neck and toyed with it. Elliot pushed 1 on her phone and the first message played. ‘—Elliot, thank god. Help me—They know I know. I shouldn't have come here—Oh god. Oh god, they found me—!’ Elliot leaned against the wall and lowered herself to the ground. She replayed the message again, pressing the phone firmly against her hear this time. Chloe sounded so scared, so desperate. So desperate, she had resorted to calling Elliot of all people. Shit. Elliot fumbled with her phone until she found his name. She dialed as she followed signs to the nearest Underground station. It rang once. No answer. She rang again. No answer. She dialed him again. He would answer, he always did eventually. The ringing stopped and through the phone, music swelled and lulled in the background. ‘Rafi.' Saying his name aloud after so many months of trying not to think about him, felt like a betrayal. ‘Mara?' He sounded exactly as she remembered. A calm, soothing, voice which let each letter simply be itself as he spoke. His voice always put her at ease, even during dark times, when Elliot herself couldn't soothe her own thoughts. ‘Track me to Athens.' Elliot instructed before hanging up and descending into the crowded London Underground. Hordes of tourists and Londoners shouldered their way through the signposted tunnels, everybody was in a rush to be somewhere else, just like she was. She pushed her way onto the tube and clung to one of the blue metal poles lining the crowded carriage. The doors rolled shut and the strangers in the carriage all swayed and lurched in sync as the tube rattled on to its next stop. Several questions raced through her mind. What had happened to Chloe? What kind of trouble was she in? She said 'they know'. What do they know? And who are they? Her heart thumped against her ribs. Chloe was adopted but it didn't mean Elliot loved her any less, if anything, Chloe was the person closest to her. Nancy always said the girls were instant best friends. She called them soul mates. Though Elliot was a year older than Chloe, she found growing up hard. Life was always easy for Chloe, too easy at times. The only thing that came easy to Elliot, was rebelling, with Chloe being the belle of the ball and Elliot being the pretty tomboy selling cigarettes in the schoolyard after school. This continued through to college and even university, until their mother's murder. Chloe had never struggled to make friends, she was a warm, loving and curious soul. Chloe had long brown braided curls and light brown almond eyes that could warm up any room she was in. A stark contrast to Elliot's pale skin and piercing greens. Both Mara girls were beauties in their own right, and both were academically excellent. It was Nancy's murder that drove them down separate paths. Elliot was too angry to let go, and in Elliot's opinion, Chloe was too eager to let go. What happened, Chloe? Being an art thief meant Elliot was often shot at, injured, almost arrested, and in constant danger, which was fine, because Elliot was the best at what she did. Chloe was a pure academic. She was not a fighter. She studied history for the love of uncovering the truth. The very thought of harm coming to Chloe made something in Elliot's chest twist, sending a wave of hot pain through her core. Her muscles tensed at the idea that Chloe could be suffering right now. She noticed her knuckles had turned white from gripping the pole so tightly. The tube shuddered, and every few minutes, the doors reeled open and passengers were offloaded onto dull, grey, platforms. Eventually, the tube stopped at the airport terminal, and Elliot rushed off the tube and hurried into the airport. She replayed the message again. Each time she listened to it, something inside her broke a little more. Her little sister was in trouble. She wouldn't waste time going to the police. She would track her down like she and Rafi had tracked so many lost treasures in the past. Chloe would not meet the same fate as their mother. Elliot simply wouldn't allow it to happen. It was as simple as that. She approached an airport worker and pulled out her wallet. ‘Get me on the next Athens flight, it's an emergency.’ The worker looked Elliot up and down and rolled his yes. Detecting the reluctance in the workers expression, Elliot handed him a wad of cash. The worker's eyes lit up. Money always had a way of fixing things. ‘Right this way, miss.’The worker smiled. He was thin and tall with knobbly fingers and spots on his cheek. He must have been no more than eighteen, Elliot thought. Upon getting her ticket and boarding the plane, Elliot sat in her seat and eyed her phone. She replayed the message again and again until she could recite every pause, every word and every noise in the background. The slight echo of Chloe's voice and the way her voice boomed, suggested Chloe was someplace with hard surfaces and possibly, dark. This would be better when she replayed it on speaker with the right apparatus. She was counting on Rafi to bring his laptop and tech gear. They had amplified messages like this one before to help pinpoint key locations of clients and goods. A thought occurred to her. What if Rafi doesn't show? What if last time crossed a line? The last time Rafi had seen her, she was nursing a bullet wound and going into withdrawal again. She remembered the disappointment on his face. It had almost destroyed her but he didn't know that. She shook her head. He had promised he would get her through anything, but when he learned she had returned to drug-use, he bailed. He had to show. He had to. The plane landed in Athens a few hours later, and Elliot was the first to make it out of the plane and out of the airport. She skimmed the busy car park, several taxis and coaches rolled by and a few drivers tried to wave her down and get her attention but she glazed past them and walked on. She navigated the crowded car park with ease, being no stranger to narrow spaces and swarms of people. She stopped when she saw it, the Bonneville T120 Triumph motorbike. The burgundy leather seat had a brown leather satchel hanging over one side. It was parked a few feet from her. She walked toward it and found Rafi Sulaiman sat on the ground, his back leaning against his bike, propping him up. He looked up at her for a long moment, his large brown eyes were tired from a life of adventure with small creases forming at the edges whenever he smiled. His smile always revealed deep dimples denting his smooth, lightly tanned skin. His short curls and scruffy beard, made him appear more intimidating than he was. You wouldn't think this man was a PhD holding spiritual soul. If anything, you would mistake him for a homeless hipster. He stood up and climbed onto the bike. ‘You made it.' Elliot mustered, unable to mask the gratitude in her voice. ‘You sounded desperate.' He said, but before Elliot could feel hopeful, he tersely added, 'I was already in Greece, anyway.’ Elliot nodded. ‘What's the plan?’ Elliot handed him the phone and replayed the message. She watched as the handsome mosaic of features on his face morphed into concern. Her eyes drifted to the silver rosary beads with the black tassel at the end of it, peeking out from his khaki coloured unbuttoned shirt and resting against his white vest. He always wore them around his neck. She remembered how cold they felt when he had carried her to the hospital in Oman. The beads were a gift from his ailing sponsor. Rafi was not adopted but he had been sponsored by an oil tycoon to study history and retrieve various treasures throughout the Middle East. He lost his mother when he was just nine. To Elliot, they were kindred spirits. She suspected he felt the same way, and that was why he was here now. ‘We should take this to the police.' He advised but Elliot ignored him. Instead, she held out her hand and waited. He tilted his head at her then frowned. ‘No, no way. You're not driving this one. She's new.’ Elliot remained in the same stance and rolled her eyes. Rafi was a polite driver and she was not. Right now, they had no use for a polite driver. After a brief staring contest, he wilted and handed the keys over. Not saying another word, she climbed onto the bike. 'This isn't a treasure, it's a person, Elliot. It's different.' He reasoned, 'Let's go to the police.' He insisted again. ‘When was the last time the police was helpful?' Elliot asked as she started up the engine. The bike purred to life and Elliot felt the bike sway as Rafi climbed onto it and placed his hands on her hips. ‘Then what's your plan?' He asked, concealing his dread. ‘Find out where she was staying and what she was working on. We can work out the rest from there.’ She announced, gripping the bike handlebars as the bike sped past taxis and coaches. She could hear Rafi muttering something in Arabic as she drove. As they wove through the rolling hills and snaking roads of Athens, Elliot caught the breath-taking sight of the Acropolis. Illuminated by auburn lights, the structure possessed an eerie glow. ‘Lets start there.' She shouted over her shoulder. Chloe loved the Athenian Acropolis. Her dream was to someday host exhibitions within its walls. She had always been in awe of ancient Greeks and their majestic mythology. The pearly Parthenon, the most famous Acropolis in the world, stood gallantly atop the hill in the distance, and Elliot couldn't take her eyes off it. Its pillars were made of glimmering marble and the grandiose limestone structure threatened to outdo the moon with its beauty. As the motorbike approached the ancient structure, Elliot felt a gnawing sensation in her gut as admiration descended into grave concern. She thought about how starstruck her little sister must have been, and how great the fall was from being enthralled to being terrified. What horrors happened in this beautiful city? What were they about to discover?