The Thunder of Stones
Book Eight—The Lady Arianna Series
Athens. A city where the ancient past and present tangle in a web of intrigue. As Saybrook and Arianna seek to unravel the truth about her brother’s disappearance while on a clandestine mission for the Crown, they find themselves threatened by shadowy enemies—and a mysterious ancient talisman . . .
The winds of change have brought great joy to Lady Arianna and Saybrook, who have recently welcomed an infant son to their family. They are still adjusting to their new life when a letter arrives from Arianna’s dearest friend and former comrade-in-chicanery inviting them to a gala 50th birthday celebration in Switzerland. With the blessing of their surgeon friend, they decide to make the trip, only to find themselves once again drawn into a dangerous web of political intrigue that may ignite war throughout Europe.
However, once in Geneva, Arianna and Saybrook learn that her half-brother is missing and feared dead while on a clandestine government mission to Greece, where revolutionary fervor— stirred by outcries from the infamous poet Lord Byron over Lord Elgin’s “Marbles” and whether he is guilty of cultural looting—is rising against the rule of the Ottoman Empire. What to do? They are saved from having to make an agonizing choice when their friends offer to care for their son while they undertake the perilous journey to learn the truth . . .
But Truth proves dauntingly difficult to unravel. Unknown forces appear intent on sparking mayhem and the list of possible villains keeps growing—a traitor within the British consulate or local Turkish government; a woman claiming to be a reincarnation of the Oracle of Delphi; thieves who may be illegally selling antiquities . . . Nothing is as it seems, leaving Arianna and Saybrook uncertain of whom to trust. And when explosives go missing from the armory atop the Acropolis, they are in a race against time, with their lives hanging in the balance . . .
EXCERPT
“Good Lord.” Arianna slumped back in her chair, numb with shock. “There must be some mistake—Richard said nothing about visiting Greece. Indeed, his last letter indicated that he had arrived in Rome and expected to be there for some time.”
The British vice consul avoided meeting her gaze.
She pressed her fingertips to her temples. “I wrote to him just before we left London to tell him we would be spending the summer relaxing and taking in the idyllic sights of Geneva and the surrounding countryside.” Tears stung her eyes. “And as Rome is not so far away, I said that I hoped he would be able to pay us a visit.”
“It would seem that his plans changed,” observed Saybrook gently. “Which likely happens more often than we know.”
His words were a tacit reminder that her half-brother’s actions weren’t always up to his own discretion. Unlike Saybrook and herself, whose involvement in clandestine government missions was a matter of personal choice, Fitzroy was a British operative and dutybound to obey whatever orders he received from his superiors.
“Damn Grentham to hell,” whispered Arianna, as she realized the implication of the statement.
Dwight must have heard the curse as he came through the doorway, for she saw the color drain from his face. The Minister of State Security had a reputation for ruthlessness and was considered a very dangerous man to cross. Most people wouldn’t dare to take his name in vain.
But like many rumors, reflected Arianna, the truth behind such whispers was far more complicated. Grentham had no compunction about doing whatever he thought was necessary to protect Britain’s interests, but his actions were ruled by empirical evidence, not personal hubris. He was never gratuitously cruel or violent.
Indeed, over the course of their acquaintance, her initial loathing had turned to grudging respect . . . and then to a surprisingly strong friendship, forged by the fire of several life-or-death missions.
Still, if he were present at this moment, she would ring such a peal over his head that his ears would be thrumming for a fortnight—
The rustle of paper drew her back to the moment.
“This is the only map we have that shows Athens and the surrounding areas,” said Dwight as he spread it out on the desktop. “I’m sorry, it’s not an area that concerns our consulate here.”
Saybrook studied it for several moments. “It will do.” He re-rolled the map . “Thank you. Please tell the consul that I’ll return it tomorrow.”
“Is there anything else I can do to be of service, milord?”
The earl shook his head and she followed his lead. If there were secrets hidden within the Foreign Office’s short message, they were for her and the earl to untangle.
They took their leave and made their way from the consulate to where their own carriage was waiting to take them back to the villa.
“The more I think about it, the more the government’s dispatch makes no sense,” said Arianna, once the wheels began to clatter over the cobblestones. “Why would Richard would be accompanying a party of dilletante collectors to a remote site of ruins?” A frown. “To my knowledge he has no interest in antiquities—nor the funds to acquire them.”
“Greece is the cradle of our Western civilization. Its allure has a magnetic pull on many young men who have studied the classics at university,” offered Saybrook. “Your brother did attend Cambridge. And seeing as many gentlemen of means end their Grand Tour in Rome, he may have made friends with a party of them and decided to join in their travels to see the splendors of ancient Greece. He’s an adventurous fellow and the chance to explore such a legendary part of the world might have been irresistible.”
“That’s possible, I suppose,” she conceded. “But then why wouldn’t he have written and told me?”
“Letters occasionally get lost,” replied Saybrook, continuing to play devil’s advocate. “Or his missive may have arrived belatedly at our London townhouse and is en route us here as we speak.”
More rational explanations. And yet, they made her feel even more troubled.
“It must now be weeks since the cave-in,” pointed out Arianna. “Given that Athens is a frequent stop for our Royal Navy ships patrolling the eastern reaches of the Mediterranean, how is it that the Foreign Office has not heard anything further?”
“Our own travels have likely complicated that question,” he responded. “But let us not stew over questions we can’t hope to answer on our own. Once we arrive at the villa, let us confer with Wolff. He’ll be gravely concerned over the news—he and Fitzroy forged a close friendship while we were all in Russia —and he may have some connections within the international diplomatic community in Geneva which can help in pursuing answers to all our questions.”
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