The Collectors Book Two: Full Circle (The Collectors Series 2) by Ron Sewell Page A

smile. “I’m pleased the generator has not been stolen. A hundred pounds that cost me. How much fuel is left?”
    “Enough for today.”
    Yannis and Alexis unloaded the truck while their father filled storm-lamps with kerosene.
    “These are better than torches,” said Tasos. “They’ll last for hours.”
    “Papa, when we go into the tunnel, please stay close to your truck. If we’re not back in four hours don’t come to find us, go and get help.”
    Tasos shrugged. “If that’s what you want.” 
    Yannis paused before answering. “Papa, you’re not young, but you’re the one person I trust, apart from Mama. The fact that you’re here is comforting. If something happens, help will arrive.”
    The cool of the dawn had gone and the sun gave the promise of a blistering day.
    Tasos strolled to his truck, sat in the shade and lit a cigarette. “Yannis, Alexis. Be careful.”
     
    *  *  *
     
    The Foden generator started on the first pull, its regular beat echoing off the pit wall. The necklace of lights lit up the first hundred metres. With a pole over each shoulder supporting twelve full kerosene lamps, Alexis followed Yannis on the walk to the chamber. When it became impossible to see further, Alexis stopped, lit a lamp, trimmed the flame and continued. The last lamp illuminated the area enough for them to traverse the ledge. With the aid of their torches, they searched.
    Yannis spotted several passages. Approaching the nearest with caution, he shone the narrow beam along its walls. At the end, a narrow stairway rose, curved up and became lost in the dark. One at a time he climbed the worn steps until he found his path blocked with debris. With no choice but to descend, he rejoined Alexis and continued along another corridor, their feet disturbing the dust. This too ended in a pile of rubble. They retraced their steps to the sump and set off again down another passage hewn out of the sandstone rock. Here the walls were much smoother and decorated with frescos. Yannis flashed his torch along its length. At first it appeared to be another dead end. With nothing to lose, they continued. At an arched entrance the walls turned sharp right. They played the two beams of light into the dark. Statues of Roman gods and goddesses stared silently back.
    Like the marble figures before them, the boys were unable to move – stunned by what they saw.
    Yannis recognised Minerva, the Goddess of Wisdom. The head of Pluto lay on the floor. Dumbstruck, he stepped over it and let his hands touch the smooth, dust-covered figures. Pots filled with beads and covered with archaic script scratched into the clay, rested at the base of every god.
    Alexis found his mind going into overdrive as he calculated the value of the treasures sprawled on the ground before them. The powers that be must never know. These statues alone would make his family rich. He drew closer to a goddess he could not recognise. At her feet lay a decorated and sealed clay pot exactly where it had been placed centuries ago. He lifted it; for its size, it seemed heavy.
    Yannis glanced at his watch; time had run out. He considered the scale of their find. “Alexis, time to get back or Papa will worry.”
    “I hope he’s doing what he does every afternoon – sleeping.”
    “He’ll be surprised with what we’ve found,” said Yannis. As they walked he wondered how this system had remained undiscovered for what must be almost two thousand years. At that moment, reality surged through his brain. He was staggered at the truth and for a moment rested while history unfolded in his mind. The Romans occupied Famagusta for over four hundred years. They had built this. On their defeat, what forces remained would have left Cyprus and their battle-damaged city. Buildings ravaged by fire collapsed in on themselves, the debris filling and sealing the entrances to the chambers. Local peasants, unaware of the underground rooms, stripped the surface of the valuable building