The Griffin in the Valley

By Paul Young

Australian journalist Leo Castella receives word that his father is in a coma after an assault on the streets of Palermo, and promptly boards a flight to Italy. The emblem of a griffin has been left as a warning and becomes a recurring theme.

In Sicily he meets a cousin who is a Cistercian monk belonging to a group who've found remarkable ancient Greek artifacts, inscribed with advanced scientific formulae. He is taken to Agrigento and introduced to other project workers who show him the mysterious carvings.

He falls in love with one of the team, Rosie, a beautiful young antique dealer. After touring the Valley of the Temples, they narrowly avoid injury from an explosion in an ambush. Treacherous behaviour is afoot in the race to interpret the archaic messages, and suspects include the monks, the Vatican, the Mafia and academics from the local university.

A long lost relative shows up with information about a subterranean chamber in the Valley of the Temples, and an ancient sage who had built a device to harness cosmic rays. Only Leo learns the secret of activating the apparatus. A siege leads to a kidnapping, ending in a rescue operation by undercover police who have been observing proceedings with interest. Back in Palermo, the old man emerges from his coma. The traitor is identified as part of an organization they had least suspected, and is caught with the help of government agents after a boat chase leading to the island of Ustica.

The characters grapple with moral issues of power and financial gain, ownership and the possible misuse of the newfound cosmic energy in the wrong hands. At the last minute, new information is uncovered which suggests that their unique source of power has far greater potential than they had ever imagined.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Dec 1, 2004
• ISBN: 9781412227940

Paul Young

Paul G. Young, PhD, worked as a teacher and administrator in Ohio for more than 35 years. He taught 4th and 5th grades and served as an elementary school principal for nearly 20 years before retiring from work in the public schools. As a principal, Young played a key leadership role in the development of the West After School Center, Inc. He also served on the board of directors and as president and CEO of the National AfterSchool Association.

Book preview

ONE

 

Friday mornings were Leo’s favourite part of the working week, when he took his place in the press gallery at City Hall for the Lord Mayor’s regular briefing and the opportunity to grill councillors on the hot topics of the moment.

When he had chosen journalism as a career path eight years earlier, Leo had pictured himself as a hard-hitting investigative reporter, breaking headlines that would command the public’s attention and elevate him to a newsworthy personality in his own right. But the stark reality was that he spent most of his days interviewing civil servants about such mundane matters as sewage disposal, garbage collection and proposed changes to school bus routes.

The position as reporter on local government affairs for the independent Northern Suburbs News was just a stepping stone, he told himself. At least Friday mornings held a little hope of producing some degree of controversy during question time in the chambers.

Leo was determined to get as much mileage as he could out of opposition to the council’s plan to build a tunnel under the river and, despite the Mayor’s efforts to steer away from the topic, did a commendable job of eliciting a story worthy of the next edition’s front page. Not exactly Sixty Minutes material, but stimulation for the journalistic instinct nonetheless.

More and more during the past few months he had found himself daydreaming about being on the world stage of current affairs. A posting abroad as a foreign correspondent wouldn’t be out of the question, and he knew that he should be aiming to fulfil such ambitions while he was still young and single. Covering events in the USA held some appeal, although for real excitement he imagined himself on assignment in Russia or Eastern Europe.

The hall tower clock chimed twelve as Leo strode out into the city square in the warmth of Brisbane’s early spring sun. Buoyed by the flow of the morning’s proceedings, he decided to ask Jenny if she was free for lunch and reached into his suit coat pocket for his mobile phone. Sure, they’d had a heated argument two days earlier resulting in her suggestion to take time out from the relationship, but after dating for two years he guessed that she wouldn’t turn down a conciliatory lunch meeting.

Hi Jenny, he began optimistically, I’m right near your office building. I was wondering if you’d like to meet me at that little coffee shop downstairs, if you have time. The ensuing silence probably only lasted a few seconds, but seemed like ages. Perhaps she was still not talking to him?

Listen Leo, that’s not a good idea, came the eventual response in a gentle but firm tone. When I said we should cool things down for a while, I really did mean we should take a break from each other. As a matter of fact, I’ve accepted an invitation to lunch today with Bob from our accounting department.

He should have seen it coming, but still it took a moment to sink in. This had been his longest lasting romance but, like all the others, was doomed to have its expiry date. Maybe he didn’t put enough effort into his relationships, or perhaps on the other hand had he tried too hard? In any case, an argument right now could only deepen the division. Just let her go, he told himself resignedly.

Sure, Jen, he finished softly, adding, Call me anytime if you want to chat. She said she would and wished him well in words that sounded sweet but lacked conviction.

Leo took a seat by himself at a small table under a tasselled umbrella in the bustling sidewalk café, and ordered a short black coffee. The questions that inevitably arose after a break-up floated through his mind: Was it her? Was it me? Was it my looks? My performance? Did our careers clash? Was there someone else all along?

It only took a brief flirtatious glance from the young, blonde waitress to reassure him that his appearance wasn’t to blame. At twenty eight years old he had not lost his smooth boyish charm, with neatly trimmed dark brown hair, hazel eyes and olive skin that marked his Italian heritage. And, just like his father who had migrated from Sicily three decades ago, he took pride in wearing only fine tailor-made suits.

No, it must be his fiery temper that always let him down, he finally decided. Apparently he got that from his mother, although he couldn’t really recall her personality at all. She had lost a valiant battle with breast cancer before he turned ten. Her portrait still hung on his bedroom wall, but time was eroding the childhood memories and he was never sure whether his occasional flashbacks were real or imagined.

The notion that perhaps he had been subconsciously searching for a mother figure in each of his girlfriends crept into his mind, and he swiftly quashed it. What did he know about his mother anyway? She had been a country girl from west Queensland who had come to Brisbane to study history and ended up as a school teacher. A strong-willed and outspoken woman, she commanded great respect in her chosen field, yet at home she tended to all the domestic duties without complaint, conforming to her husband’s traditional European expectations.

Leo finished his coffee and paid the cashier. He considered leaving a tip for the waitress who had boosted his confidence with her welcoming smile. But seeing that she was now engrossed in conversation with a suave young broker who had just walked in from the stock exchange next door, he thought better of it and dropped the coins into his wallet to keep for the parking fee.

The usual Friday routine dictated that Leo return to his office by 2.00pm, type up his report and hand it in to the editor. But on a whim he decided to detour past his house and check up on the landscaping work he had contracted out to a local handyman. After failing to show up three days in a row, this would be the worker’s last chance, Leo thought. The old family home that he had shared with his father, Carlo, for all these years was sorely in need of a facelift. With Carlo away overseas, this was the perfect opportunity to do it up in keeping with his own taste.

It was a relief to see Jerry and his young assistant hard at work as he pulled up outside the house. They had not only shown up but had made remarkable progress on the first day. A log retaining wall was already taking shape on the lower side of the sloping land.

G’day, called Jerry, putting down his shovel and striding forward to greet Leo. I’m sorry about the delay in getting started this week. My last job went way over schedule after we accidentally cut through some underground cables. You know how it is!

A slight shudder ran up Leo’s spine as he mentally pictured all manner of things that could go wrong during the renovations, and the possibility of his father coming home to a shambles instead of a pleasant surprise. Better put that scenario out of mind, he thought, and hold on to positive thoughts. He was no handyman himself, and would just have to rely on Jerry to do his best.

Got something here that could be important, declared Jerry as he reached into the pocket of his overalls and produced a large white card. A man called in here a couple of hours ago looking for you. He said he was from the Foreign Affairs Department. I couldn’t find your mobile phone number at the time, so he left this form with some information on it. He’ll be in his office this afternoon, and wants you to call him as soon as you can.

Foreign affairs? Are you sure? Let me see that. The card was unmistakably emblazoned with the Australian coat of arms on one side. Flipping it over, Leo saw that it was designed in a we called while you were out format, and the government officer had filled in the appropriate blank spaces.

‘For the attention of Mr. Leo Castella’, it read. ‘We ask that you call our office on the number listed below at your earliest convenience, in relation to a matter concerning a friend or relative who is currently situated in a location outside Australia. Please ask for Mr. John Sanderson and quote file reference Q6468’.

This must be something to do with Carlo’s trip abroad, Leo reasoned, but he was at a loss to guess what it could be about. Stolen credit cards, misplaced passport, lost luggage or sickness? It must be serious and it couldn’t be good news, but why hadn’t his father just telephoned himself? Thanking Jerry for the message, he hurriedly made for the stairway leading up to the front door of the old Queenslander-style house, nervously tripping on the first step as a wave of apprehension washed over him.

After fumbling with the door key he headed straight for the phone in the living room, then halted abruptly as his gaze fixed on the framed photograph on the shelf before him. The image of the father and son clasping hands on his graduation day hit him with a force he had never experienced until this very moment.

Dad’s the one stable influence in my life, he admitted to himself, mouthing the words as they occurred to him. Other people and events may come and go: jobs, friends, relationships, travel, houses and cars. But this was his mentor, his hero, the man who had gone beyond the call of paternal duty to become his best friend. It was inconceivable that any harm could come to him. Maybe Foreign Affairs just needed to consult with him about some issue of national importance?

It was only four months earlier that Carlo had begun his journey back to Sicily, the land of his birth, to satisfy a long-held yearning. He always said he wanted to go back there, and having reached the age of fifty-five he had considered taking an early retirement from his position as University Professor of Archaeology, so that he could make the most of it before he was too old. But the college dean implored him not to cut ties permanently, and instead he accepted the suggestion to take one year’s sabbatical leave and reconsider his choices at the end of that time.

Carlo’s dedication to his career had always been passionate, and his peers agreed that he somehow breathed life into the subject of archaeology, making it not only relevant but vibrant to his students. Years ago his wife’s enthusiasm for history had complemented his own interests, and there was never any hint of boredom in their life together.

Leo snapped back to the present and lifted the telephone receiver, slowly dialling the number he had been given. While he held on for the receptionist to page John Sanderson, his eyes stayed focused on that photo, and he took a few deep breaths while reassuring himself that everything was alright. At last the government officer answered, and they exchanged the usual niceties. Remaining calm, Leo quoted the reference number and patiently waited for Sanderson to open the appropriate file.

Well Mr. Castella, we’ve received a report from our Embassy in Italy that your father has been the unfortunate victim of an assault while in Palermo. I don’t have the full medical report in my hands yet, but I can tell you that he is in a coma and being held in ICU in the general hospital there.

Coma? echoed Leo, reeling from the impact of the very word. I don’t understand, how could that happen? Dad is a kind and gentle man who’s never harmed anyone. I’ve never known him to get into trouble with strangers, although I imagine that he could be an unwitting target for pickpockets or muggers. He was aware of the tremor in his voice as he spoke and, feeling his legs begin to buckle, slumped onto a stool.

John Sanderson hesitated as he glanced over the report again, trying to deliver the news as sympathetically as possible. I want to give you as much information as I can, Leo, but at the same time I must stress that we don’t have the full details yet. I had in fact just telephoned Italy before you called, as it’s now early morning over there, and asked them the questions that I anticipated you would want answered. They are certain that this was not a random assault. It has the hallmarks of a well organized, gangland style attack.

‘You mean someone deliberately targeted him? This is just terrible. Why would anyone want to hurt him?" Leo was struggling to absorb what he was hearing, and felt a strange mental numbness.

Sorry, they have not even the vaguest theory to offer at this stage, but it’s only twenty-four hours after the event. Our embassy tells me that the police have a squad of their best men on it full-time already, Sanderson assured Leo. This is going to take some time to unravel, but I do suggest that your first concern should be about your father’s health.

Of course, Leo agreed. I’ll have to decide urgently whether I should go over there, but I shouldn’t bother you with that. I do appreciate your sensitivity in relaying this unpleasant news, though."

Not at all, Sanderson shot back quickly. ‘Your predicament concerns us greatly. Please don’t think we’re just a lot of uncaring bureaucrats. Firstly I should remind you that Carlo is a distinguished member of the Australian community, having been nominated as one of our national living treasures two years ago. Secondly, I want to state unequivocally that all Australians, no matter what their status, are afforded the care and protection of my department whenever they are overseas."

Right, that’s understood, Leo replied, it’s just that, you know, I’m not sure which way to turn at this moment. Dad’s normally the person I look to for advice in a tight situation and, well, this time I’ve got get a grip on things by myself.

Look, said Sanderson, I’ve got some idea what’s going through your mind right now. My elder brother is a career diplomat and he was kidnapped and held for three months by the Sandinista rebels in Nicaragua in 1998. There are no words for the agony you go through. He got out safely in the end, and neither he nor I have shied away from the roles we play in helping our compatriots abroad. I’m sure that it’s starting to occur to you that you might be at risk yourself by going to Palermo. But if that’s what you decide to do, you have my full support.

What would you do if you were me? Leo posed the question without expecting an answer. It’s difficult to know what that risk factor would be, without knowing who was behind this act of aggression or their motives. If it is some sort of family feud, then I’ll be putting myself right in the firing line by showing up on the scene. Logically, I should sit down and give this some serious thought, but already my heart is telling me that it is my duty to be at my father’s side, no matter what the danger.

Call me when you’ve made the travel arrangements, Sanderson concluded as if he knew Leo’s decision in advance. We’re with you all the way.

***

As he impatiently wove his red MX-5 sports car through the Friday afternoon traffic along Coronation Drive, Leo realized that there was no doubt as to what he must do. He was already working out the details of a short notice trip to Sicily. Fortunately, he knew his passport was up to date, thanks to a trip he’d made to New Zealand barely a year earlier. Next on the list would be an air ticket, accommodation arrangements, travellers’ cheques, preparing luggage and notifying everyone who needed to be aware of his absence.

The greatest hurdle would probably be getting approval from his editor, Roger Hayes, to take leave without notice. Preoccupied with the challenge ahead, he almost swiped the gate post as he swung into the car park below the modern five storey building.

Roger and Leo had an uneasy working relationship and in the early days together clashes had been frequent. The editor’s inclination toward sarcasm had often ignited the journalist’s fierce temper, but ultimately their mutual, professional respect for each other’s talents had caused commonsense to take the upper hand. This truce not withstanding, Roger never missed a chance to remind his staff who was boss.

Ah, nice to see our intrepid council reporter put in an appearance at least a few minutes before our deadline. Have a nice long lunch, did we? Roger spoke through gritted teeth as he forced a mock smile.

Bloody hell, just what I need, thought Leo as he bit hard on his bottom lip. Our esteemed editor is having one of those days again. As if this wasn’t going to be difficult enough without the theatrics. Oddly though, he didn’t feel the usual temptation to strike back. The surfacing of unexpected emotions in the past couple of hours had forced a review of priorities, and a calm determination prevailed.

You’ll have a lead article on your desk before five, Leo assured his superior. But first I would like a word with you privately. Could we use your office? I promise to keep it brief.

Roger was disconcerted. Sensing that there was serious business afoot, he nodded and ushered Leo into his large, plush executive room and waved towards the sofa rather than the office desk. Between them they mustered sufficient composure to allow a civil conversation to ensue, and Roger thoughtfully poured two cups of black coffee from the pot that sat brewing atop his well-stocked bar.

It’s not often I feel scared inside, Leo began slowly as his editor sank into the armchair opposite him, but every now and then life takes you by surprise. He related what he had learned from his telephone conversation with Sanderson and, as he did so, it struck him how little he really knew about the circumstances of his father’s assault. How many attackers had there been? Were there any witnesses? Was this really an attempt to take Carlo’s life? Why? His brow furrowed as he stared at the bottom of his coffee cup, and Roger squirmed awkwardly.

So you’ve decided to fly to Palermo right away? I understand, in fact in your position I’d be doing the same, Roger agreed. The transition from sarcastic antagonism to empathy was swift and dramatic, not to mention welcome from Leo’s point of view. Both men had been exposed to disaster and tragedy in the course of their profession, and knew that comradeship brought comfort in times of adversity.

We’ll have young Jimmy take over your duties for the time being. His talent is being wasted as a backup on the social pages anyway. But don’t worry, I’m sure he’s not going to usurp your position as our chief local government reporter, Roger chirped in such an accommodating way that Leo had to refrain from revealing his boredom with doing the council beat. Just a stepping stone, he reminded himself.

The suddenness of the travel arrangements caught him off-guard. Leo asked the consultant at Flightwings Agency to double-check for other options, but she repeated that his best shot was to take a flight departing at 11:00pm that very evening, with a routing via Bangkok to Rome then on to Palermo. This was the end of summer vacation time in Italy, she explained, and if he didn’t take the vacant seat tonight it could be another week before he’d get a confirmed passage right through to his destination.

What a chain of events, Leo thought, feeling almost dizzy at the pace of the strikes this day had dealt him. You start out feeling chuffed at scoring a victory in a debate with the Mayor then, Wham! Your girlfriend’s gone, your father is in a coma on the other side of the planet, you’ve taken leave of absence and