Besides, the abbot knew one did not advance in the church by being impolitic.
Bringing a stolen cross, even a just ‘sort of’ stolen one, to this holy, sanctified site might seem wrong to some, but to Andreas, it was the only place to come. He took his time walking along the wide stone path, lined on its sea view edge by stone benches, pines, and a low wall. A hundred yards dead ahead of the gate stood the gray, natural boulder steps and simple entrance to the centuries-old Monastery of the Apocalypse, and the beginning of Andreas’ descent to the Holy Cave enclosed within its whitewashed walls. A few steps down to a gift shop and a quick left back outside had Andreas in an inner courtyard. From there, steps twisting down brought him to the shared entrance of the Church of Saint Anna and the Holy Cave of the Apocalypse.
The cross still was in Andreas’ pocket, though he’d been gripping it from the moment he entered the monastery. He stood at the entrance and read the inscription: AS DREADFUL AS THIS PLACE IS IT IS NEVERTHELESS THE HOUSE OF GOD AND THIS THE GATE OF HEAVEN. He drew a deep breath, pulled the cross out of his pocket, and stepped inside. A stone arch divided the church into a modest front section and even smaller rear area. Each section of the church had a small window along its left wall, revealing olive groves meeting an azure sea. The distant landscape was one of rolling brown hills, tiny islands, and a bright blue sky.
The simple elegance of the place caught him off guard. Yes, priceless icons adorned a richly carved iconostasis inlaid with gold against the far wall, ornate silver chandeliers and oil lamps hung from the vaulted ceiling, and silver candle stands stood next to finely carved cabinetry beneath precious paintings; but he’d seen all that before, and much more, in so many other churches.
What commanded attention and drew so many pilgrims was what was not here: there was no right wall to the church. Running parallel to each other, the church and holy cave were essentially one, joined side by side. This was not a place for show. Plain wooden benches sat haphazardly on the cave floor. This was a place where one came for prayer and meditation.
It was four steps from the entrance to the front section of the church and another dozen to reach its far end. Andreas stared into the far right corner of the cave, his eyes drawn to a familiar icon, the Vision of Saint John. Strange, he thought, how it was beneath a copy of this icon that he’d snatched the cross from the cave-like office of the police captain, and now he stood looking at the original, in the cave of its inspiration, seeking answers from what he had taken.
Beneath the icon, at floor level and tucked behind a bit of discreet, brass tube fencing, was the soccer ball-sized niche where history records Saint John rested his head while receiving the Revelation. The niche was surrounded in hammered silver, and to its right a few feet above the floor and outside the fencing was another silver-wrapped, smaller niche. Here he placed his hand when rising from the floor.
Andreas stared at the simple cross; it seemed so out of place. He drew a breath and walked toward six tall-arm wooden prayer chairs against the left wall. He sat in the one closest to the window and stared at the cross.
He went over it as he had so many times before in the photographs: each leg was about one inch wide by one-quarter inch thick, and the longer no more than three inches in length, with a thin, black leather lanyard tightly wound and glued in place about it just below its intersection with the shorter leg. Andreas kept turning it over and over in his hands. Staring, looking for some clue, some hint of meaning.
‘Why this? You had to know they’d find the envelope and take it, so why were you clutching this so fiercely?’ Andreas realized he’d said the words aloud. He looked around, but no one was there.
He stood up and began to pace. Is this a symbol? Something tied to the monk’s past? Maybe it’s some obscure link to an esoteric scholarly reference? How am I ever going to figure it out? ‘How!’ He knew he was frustrated. He took a deep breath and decided it was time to leave.
Andreas looked toward the holy cave. I ought to go inside, he thought. I might never have the chance again. Six or so steps from the left wall he had to duck to enter the cave’s space. It was much smaller than he’d imagined and the rock ceiling angled down more steeply that it seemed. So much so that he easily could touch the fabled cleft in the ceiling rock through which God spoke to Saint John.
Andreas wondered how many countless tourists and pilgrims over the centuries had wondered what Saint John saw from his place in this cave. Andreas crouched down between the two silver-collared niches and leaned over so his head was close to the ground in front of the fencing. Still clutching the cross in his right hand, he looked back toward the window. He saw sky. He stayed in that position for about a minute, thinking about nothing but what it must have been like. ‘Better get up,’ he said aloud, and pushed off from the floor with his free hand. He got up so quickly that for an instant he felt dizzy and stumbled back toward the cave wall. Instinctively, he reached out with his right hand to catch himself, driving the cross into the stone and dropping it to the floor in the process.
Andreas resisted an immediate urge to curse. That’s all I need to do, commit the sacrilege of destroying a cross – in this place of all places and with a baby on the way. Lila would be a nervous wreck if she knew. He bowed his head. ‘God forgive me,’ he said and crossed himself three times. He picked up the cross from the cave floor and kissed it. He noticed that the bottom part of the longer leg gave way under the pressure of his lips. It had separated from the rest of the cross somewhere beneath the lanyard wrap.
‘I can’t believe I broke a cross in the Holy Cave of the Apocalypse. And not just any cross, the stolen cross of a holy man during the time of his funeral.’ This was something he never could tell Lila. Instinctively, he tried to fix it, get the longer leg back in place under the lanyard.
Andreas knew he was standing in the place of Revelation, and perhaps that’s why he wasn’t so surprised when the thought hit him. He stopped trying to fix the cross. Instead, he slowly wiggled the longer leg, carefully separating it from the lanyard and glue, then with a firm tug, pulled it away from the rest of the cross. He looked at the broken piece, poked at it a couple times, and broke into a smile almost as wide as when Lila told him she was pregnant.
‘You wily old bas …’ Andreas didn’t finish his curse, but still crossed himself as he shouted, ‘It wasn’t just the envelope, you were trying to get him this!’ and held up to the light a tiny USB flash drive – a computer storage device small enough to conceal a million envelopes of information within the body of a hollow cross.
9
The funeral had ended over an hour before, but it took until now for the abbot to retreat from all those wanting his ear and escape to his office. He needed time to be alone with his thoughts. No such luck. Waiting for him in a chair across from his desk was Patmos’ police captain. He rose as the abbot entered but did not kiss his hand.
‘Your words touched everyone, Your Holiness.’
‘Thank you.’ He didn’t know whether to believe him but hoped he meant it. ‘Vassilis was a special soul. I tried to do him justice.’
‘I knew him practically all my life. He will be missed by everyone.’
The abbot nodded. ‘So, what is on your mind?’ He knew there was something.
‘It’s that cop, Kaldis, from Athens. Someone saw him on the island during the funeral.’
‘I didn’t see him.’
‘No, that’s just it. He was on the island but not for the funeral, and left before it was over.’
‘Any idea why?’
‘No. I was hoping you might have one. You see, he and I didn’t get off on exactly the right foot, and I don’t want to give him any reason to be more … perturbed with me than he already is.’
The abbot took the captain’s effort to avoid a harsher word as a sign of respect. ‘Why would you think I possibly could be cause for him being “perturbed” with you?’
‘I’m just asking if you can think of any possible reason tha
t might be lurking out there.’ He waved his right hand in the air. ‘As farfetched as that may seem.’
Now the abbot sensed the captain was patronizing him. His temper flared. ‘I think you forget who you’re talking to.’
The captain shrugged. ‘Sorry, no offense intended, Your Holiness. But let’s be frank, your truly wonderful eulogy left out a few things. Like the fact Kalogeros Vassilis was murdered in the middle of our town square after ranting like a wild man for weeks about Russians trying to destroy the church.’
The abbot’s face tightened. ‘How I chose to memorialize one of my monks is absolutely none of your concern.’
The captain nodded. ‘True, but it makes me wonder if there might not be a few things you do know that could help with the investigation of his murder. And if you do, and Kaldis finds out you’ve been withholding them, I don’t want to be pushed up any higher on his shit list because of you.’ This time he made no effort to choose a gentler word.
The abbot stared at him. ‘I am more concerned with how I am recorded in God’s book. If I have erred, my mistake will be judged by the Lord, not you.’
The captain leaned over the desk. ‘I mean no disrespect, but if something goes wrong, don’t come to me this time looking for backup. If God is your judge, get his army to bail you out, not mine. If you’re hiding something, you’re not getting any further help from me. I stonewalled that cop once because you asked me to help keep the monastery from being drawn into a mess unnecessarily. Well, whatever mess is percolating out there is certainly not of my making, and if it’s yours or you’re making it yours for God knows what reason, good luck. Last chance, are you going to tell me what you’re hiding or not?’
The abbot stood up. ‘Kalo Paska, my son.’
The captain stood up. ‘Then so be it. And Good Easter to you too, Your Holiness.’
When Andreas walked into his office Kouros was sitting on the couch next to the window, reading.
‘Maggie finished the transcript. Interesting stuff. There’s a note—’
‘Can’t wait to see what’s on this.’ He held up the flash drive. ‘I found it inside that cheap cross Vassilis bought the day before his murder.’
‘Amazing. What’s on it?’
‘Don’t know. Didn’t dare do anything with it until one of our computer guys tells me if it’s booby-trapped to delete something if the wrong person tries accessing it. Maggie!’ He didn’t bother with the intercom.
The door swung open before he’d reached the other side of his desk.
‘You rang?’
‘Get one of our computer geniuses up here. I need to know what’s on this flash drive, and tell him it might be tricky. Could be booby-trapped. And make sure it’s somebody with a top-level security clearance who can keep his mouth shut.’
She nodded. ‘Right away. I assume that means your morning helicopter jaunt to Patmos was successful?’
He nodded yes.
‘I’m glad to hear that. Anything else you need from me?’
‘Maggie, please, I’m in no mood to chit-chat. Just get that computer guru up here now. Please.’
She didn’t seem the least bit offended at his brusqueness, just smiled and winked at Kouros as she closed the door behind her.
Kouros burst out laughing.
‘What so funny? Doesn’t she get how important this is?’
Kouros laughed again. ‘Oh, I’m sure she gets it, Chief, and – may I speak freely?’
Andreas waved him to continue.
‘She’s got your number, too.’
‘What the hell are you talking about?’
Kouros leaned forward and slid a piece of paper across the desk toward Andreas. ‘This was clipped to the transcript.’ It was in Maggie’s handwriting:
In case you’re interested, I know who the mystery man is on the tape. Just ask. I don’t dare put it in writing.
Andreas stared at Kouros. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about this before?’
He smiled. ‘I tried, but you cut me off, then launched into Maggie before either of us could tell you.’
‘Bastard, both of you are bastards. Maggie, get in here.’
Five seconds later, ‘You rang again, master?’
‘Okay, okay, so shoot me. I apologize. I’m just wound up about that flash drive.’
Maggie nodded. ‘I spoke to our resident computer whiz. He’s like a modern doctor, won’t make house calls. Said you’ll know if there’s a potential problem when access requires a password. Otherwise, just use it. If it’s password protected, you’ll have to bring the drive down to him because that’s where the equipment is that he needs to get around it.’
Andreas let out a deep breath. ‘Thank you, Maggie, that was very efficient of you, as always.’
‘Keep going, I love it when you kiss my butt.’
Kouros laughed again. Andreas shot him a glare, and Kouros laughed some more.
Andreas put up his hands. ‘Enough already. I give up. Now, please, tell me who’s the other guy on the tape?’
‘Fine, just be patient, okay?’
Andreas nodded. ‘Okay, promise.’
She looked out the window. ‘I just pray he’s not a bad guy.’ She turned back to Andreas. ‘You know how interested I am in our church’s history.’
Andreas nodded.
‘I don’t think I’ve missed a lecture in Athens on the subject in years, unless I’ve heard it before or know the speaker will bore me to death.’ She let out a deep breath.
‘One speaker in particular fascinated me. I never missed one of his lectures, even went to Thessaloniki twice to hear him. He didn’t speak very often, possibly once a year, at most. But he was mesmerizing.’ She nodded. ‘Yes, he’s your man.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘The name isn’t important, you won’t recognize it. It’s who he is that’s … mind-blowing.’ She paused. ‘The twenty principal monasteries on Mount Athos are ranked in a hierarchical order that cannot be changed. He’s from one of the five most senior monasteries. He must have been well liked and respected by his monastery because I remember at one lecture he was introduced as his monastery’s representative to the Holy Community.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Kouros.
‘Mount Athos is a self-governing monastic state within Greece, made up of twenty self-governing territories, each with a ruling monastery and each with a representative to the Holy Community, the governing body of Mount Athos. They’re monks who must be at least thirty years old, but usually much older, and well versed in church law and doctrine. They move from their monasteries to Karyas, Mount Athos’ capital, where they meet in the tenth-century Church of the Protaton, the oldest church on the Holy Mountain, and from what I hear, enjoy modern communications with the outside world and a pretty fancy lifestyle. At least for monks.’
That explained the Italian suit, thought Andreas.
‘Anyway, he didn’t seem to be lecturing anywhere, and I was worried he might be ill or, God forbid, passed away.’ She crossed herself. ‘So, I went to a lecture by another representative and asked him if he knew what had happened to the other monk. You’d have thought I’d asked him to commit blasphemy. I thought it was because I was a woman, and that really pissed me off.’
Pity the poor monk who did that, thought Andreas.
‘I called the head of police in Karyas and asked him to find out what happened to the monk. I couldn’t believe it. He knew, but wouldn’t tell me, either. I reminded him who I worked for and that unless he wanted to be reassigned to duty on a bread-and-water prison barge off the coast of Turkey in August, he’d better start talking.’
‘I didn’t know we had that sort of place,’ said Kouros.
She smiled. ‘We don’t, but he got my point and told me what I wanted to know. The monk was alive and well, but in a position many on Mount Athos preferred playing down. A group of four monks, called the Holy Administration, serves as the executive committee of the Holy Community. One member of the group
must come from one of the five senior monasteries, the other three from the remaining fifteen. He was one of the four overseers.’
She paused and shut her eyes. ‘But he was more than just a member of the Holy Administration. He was from a senior monastery.’ Maggie opened her eyes. ‘And that made him protos, the head of it all. He’s their president, the most powerful churchman on Mount Athos.’
Andreas picked up the flash drive and stared at it. He’d guessed right about the man being from the Holy Mountain, but never imagined that it was his mountain. ‘You know, Maggie, somehow I’m not as excited as I once was to learn what’s on this thing.’ He fluttered his lips. ‘But what the hell, what’s the worst that can happen?’
He slid the drive into his computer’s USB port, hoping the answer to his question was not eternal damnation.
The Protos wasn’t used to arriving home in secret. But Sergey was adamant. No one should see them arriving so early in the morning from the mainland. Karyas was a small village and gossip its primary pastime – especially among civilians working for the civil governor appointed by Greece’s ministry of foreign affairs and charged with supervising the area’s secular matters. It was their way of impressing co-workers back on the mainland that what they did really was important, even if they seemed to be living in the middle of nowhere.
A simple, ‘It’s Easter Week and the Protos was away last night,’ would spawn endless speculation on his whereabouts, and perhaps a ‘My cousin Nick drives a taxi and thought he saw the Protos at the Athens airport,’ followed by more speculation over the reason for the trip at such a busy time. That was not the sort of gossip Sergey wanted to risk reaching the ears of nervous killers.
An Aegean Prophecy: A Chief Inspector Andreas Kaldis Mystery: Book 3 Page 9