Andreas shrugged. ‘It’s only for one night.’ At least he hoped so.
The lobby was about as interesting as the architecture, but clean and tidy. The receptionist handed them keys to their rooms and an envelope. ‘Sergeant Mavros left this for you.’
Andreas opened the envelope and peeked inside. It was photos and the videotape of Vassilis’ body at the scene. ‘You look at these Yianni, I’ll check them out later.’ Photos of a body lying dead in a street would change his mood; remind him of how close Lila came to ending up like that. She was in a coma for a week after being clubbed in the head. That was almost nine months ago. Thank God she was all right.
Andreas’ room was small and had a view of parked cars. No matter, as long as it was quiet. He called Lila from his cell phone.
‘Hello, my Prince Charming.’
‘Damn caller ID takes away all the mystery.’ Andreas was smiling.
‘But not the romance, lover boy. So, how goes your island holiday off alone with Yianni?’
‘Terrific, nothing but beautiful beaches, fine food-’
‘And the bodies?’
Andreas paused. ‘I thought we agreed not to talk about that sort of thing.’
Lila laughed. ‘I meant live ones. Find any to rival mine?’
‘Sorry, I’m a bit edgy. No, none like yours. That person doesn’t exist.’
‘Perfect answer. It’s just what an almost nine months pregnant woman wants to hear. You’re learning, Kaldis.’
‘I have a great teacher.’
Lila laughed again. ‘So, when do you think you’ll be back?’
‘I’m hoping tomorrow.’
‘I hope so, too. I saw the doctor today and he said, “Any day.”’
‘Should I come home now?’
‘No, it’s not that close, but if you’re planning to be away for more than a few days I can’t guarantee the little one will wait.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll be back.’
‘I know.’
Neither spoke. It was one of those ‘should we marry’ silences, or at least that’s what Andreas thought. He was the son of a working class cop; she was from one of Greece’s oldest, wealthiest families, and the young, socially prominent widow of a shipowner. Things had just happened between them. And the attack made him her protector. His move from his walkup apartment into her penthouse on the chicest street in Athens he saw as temporary, until the baby was born. Sooner or later Andreas knew she’d come to her senses and he didn’t want her feeling bound to him by marriage. Until then, though, he’d continue to love her more than anyone on earth. He’d just not propose.
‘So, is there anything else you want to say?’ She always seemed to know what he was thinking.
Andreas paused. ‘It’s terrible what’s happened here.’ He decided it was safer to talk about the case than what was going through his mind. Besides, he’d only give details available to the media. ‘Everyone says the murdered monk was one of this world’s few, truly good souls. Tragic.’
‘Then, thank God there are people like you who care what happens to the good ones.’
‘Lila, come on.’
‘Hey, big guy, I’m nine months pregnant, relegated to doing crossword puzzles and anagrams for thrills. Let me fantasize about the father of my child.’
He wasn’t sure if Lila was teasing or not, but decided to let it go. They spent the next fifteen minutes talking about all the things her parents and Andreas’ mother were doing to make their baby the most appreciated in modern history. Then they said goodnight, with Andreas promising to tell her goodnight in person the next time.
He hung up and lay back on the bed. His cell phone rang. ‘I know, you forgot to tell me how much you love me.’
‘More than you’ll ever imagine.’ It wasn’t Lila.
Andreas didn’t move. ‘I see you got my message.’
‘If I’d known how much you cared, I’d have called sooner. But I sensed you wanted to whisper sweet nothings in my ear personally.’
‘When can we meet?’
‘I’ll let you know when and where. What’s your room number?’
‘Two-two-eight.’
‘Night night, my love.’
Andreas hung up and stared at the ceiling. It was time to get things running on a different track. He just hoped what he had in mind wouldn’t end up with him tied to one right in the path of a freight train.
It was a pale sky. Filled with arrows. Back and forth they flew. Sharp-pointed black ones, with crimson feathers. The sky was never without them; they came and went in flocks. So often and so many that he no longer noticed. He’d grown used to them, accepted them as having a part in this place. They were not something to fear, but to understand so as not to be afraid. They flew all around him but could not harm him or those he embraced.
He thought back to before he’d come here. He’d heard talk of such serenity and knew of many who longed to find it, but he gave up on the value of the search when the only soul he thought could guide him there was lost. But to be fair, even had he tried on his own and by chance stumbled upon this station, the arrows flew everywhere; how was he to trust that not one could strike him if he remained?
Then, unexpectedly, he’d felt the stroke of some formless being, as light as a nursing baby at its mother’s breast; a touch that gave him faith that a place of peace indeed existed, and the vision to see that he must overcome whatever of his past or present dared block the path to this rare sanctuary. It was his duty. It was the duty of a father.
Andreas jerked awake shaking his head. ‘Oh boy, definitely too much garlic in the tzatziki.’ He turned on the light, got out of bed, walked into the bathroom, closed his eyes and slapped cold water on his face. When he opened them he stood staring into the mirror.
He’d seen pictures of his father at his age. The father who killed himself when Andreas was eight, after a government minister had set him up, the trusting cop, to take the fall for bribes that went into that minister’s own pocket.
‘Yeah, Dad, we look alike. No doubt I’m your son. No doubt whatsoever.’ He shook his head and threw more water on his face.
‘So, old man, was that your way of telling me to get on with my life and forget about how badly you fucked up your own family by checking out way before your time was up?’ He watched his anger build up in the mirror but didn’t look away.
‘Smart move, Dad, come to me in a vision on Patmos. Makes it seem like the real thing, huh?’
Andreas paused, as if waiting for an answer.
‘I need a sign, or else I’m going to chalk it up to the tzatziki. Make me believe in family, make me believe I won’t mess things up as badly as you did. Go ahead, I dare you!’
Andreas stared into his own eyes. ‘See, I knew you’d let me down. Again.’
He turned off the light and crawled into bed. He was back to staring at the ceiling when he heard a faint beep.
There was a text message on his phone:
I’M AWAKE, AND THOUGHT YOU MIGHT BE, TOO. JUST WANTED YOU TO KNOW
JUNIOR AND I LOVE YOU VERY MUCH. L.
Andreas tried not to cry. He tried very hard not to cry.
5
There was a knock on Andreas’ door at seven in the morning. ‘Sir, a taxi driver just delivered an envelope for you. He said he’d wait for you.’
Andreas had been up for an hour. But he wasn’t expecting a taxi.
‘Slide it under the door.’
It was a plain white envelope marked ‘Room 228.’ Inside was scribbled, Tell the driver Lampi. See you soon. He recognized the handwriting.
Ten minutes later Kouros and Andreas were in the taxi on their way to a beach called Lampi. It was a beautiful morning, almost no one else on the road. The taxi headed north through the old port, past harborside tavernas peppered with locals sharing coffee and gossip, and on through the new port edged by shops and places catering to the daily needs of island residents: car repair, hardware, furniture, clothing, electronics, cell pho
nes, and pizza. As the road climbed out of Skala, eucalyptus replaced shops and the view turned to open land, marked by ancient walls, tiny villages, green and brown fields, and random homes and churches scattered across the hills among pines, cypresses, tamarisks, and pomegranates.
At a sign marked KAMBOS the driver slowed down to pass through a crossroads paved in rough-cut stone. ‘We’re almost there. This is Kambos town. Kambos beach is up ahead.’
Andreas had heard of Kambos beach. It was Patmos’ most popular, the one where rich kids from around the world summering in their parents’ homes and local kids in search of friends from a larger world grew up together. How well those friendships wore into adulthood largely depended on how well each appreciated the other’s likely future: the rich would go on to assume their parents’ lives and the locals would just go on.
‘How much farther?’ asked Kouros.
‘About five minutes. We take a left just past the beach and it’s on the other side of those hills.’ He nodded straight ahead. ‘Ever been to Lampi?’
‘No,’ said Kouros.
‘It’s different than it used to be.’
Why does every local, everywhere in Greece, say the same thing? thought Andreas.
‘What do you mean?’ said Kouros.
‘The shiny colored pebbles that cover the beach. Many of them are gone. Too many tourists — and locals — take them, thinking they look better on a table somewhere or stuck in some mosaic. Damn shame how people destroy a place just to show they were there. Crazy how people think.’
Yeah, crazy, thought Andreas, like the British and the Marbles from the Parthenon.
A bit later the driver nodded his head to the right. ‘There it is, over there.’ The road coiled down toward a long beach surrounded by unspoiled hills. Andreas could make out a taverna in the middle, under some trees. Or maybe there were two tavernas. A rented, blue Fiat Punto and a beat-up maroon Toyota pickup were parked at the edge of the beach. The driver turned the taxi around before stopping next to the Fiat. ‘Should I wait?’ he asked.
‘No, thank you,’ said Andreas, paying him.
The driver nodded. ‘Damn shame about the pebbles. Do me a favor, don’t take any,’ and drove off before Andreas could reply.
Andreas smiled. The guy was right to say it.
‘Over here.’ The voice came from the near taverna. It was about fifty yards down the beach.
‘Wouldn’t it have been easier to come by the hotel?’ said Andreas, walking with Kouros toward the voice.
‘You know me, never miss a chance for the dramatic.’
Andreas hugged the man, and they kissed each other on both cheeks. Kouros and the man did the same.
‘How’s Lila?’
Andreas smiled as he thought about his dream last night and her message. ‘Due any day now.’
‘Can’t wait.’
‘She’d probably tell you before me if it were up to her.’
‘If you’re not back home when the baby’s born she might never tell you.’ He smacked Andreas on the shoulder. ‘So, why has the chief of special crimes, based in Athens, dragged the chief homicide investigator for the Cycladic Islands onto a Dodecanese island outside my jurisdiction?’
Tassos Stamatos was well past retirement age, but no one in the ministry dared tell him. He knew where every body was buried, who buried them, and how to exhume any he might need to inflict the greatest possible harm on anyone who crossed him. It was called lifetime job security. ‘I’m guessing it has to do with the murdered monk.’
Andreas nodded yes. ‘The only thing I’m sure of is this wasn’t a mugging gone wrong. Whoever did it meant to kill him. And if even a little of what we’ve heard is true…’ He rolled his right hand off into the air.
‘Sounds like your kind of case.’ Tassos smiled. ‘I figured as much when you didn’t want to talk on a cell phone. That’s why I decided not to chance a landline either.’
‘How did you find me?’ Andreas put up his hand to stop him from answering. ‘Maggie.’
Tassos grinned. ‘You’re the one who brought us back together.’
That was pure coincidence. Andreas had known nothing about their romantic past when he played inadvertent match-maker. He just was happy for them both: Tassos, the longtime widower, and Maggie, GADA’s mother superior. Andreas shook his head and waved for him to continue.
‘If anyone followed you we’d see them on the road.’ He looked up the hill. ‘So far, no unexpected visitors. And anyone here at this hour, besides Niko,’ he gestured toward an old man in a Greek fisherman’s cap at the far end of the taverna, ‘is unexpected. This place doesn’t open until noon. So, tell me what’s going on.’
It took about twenty minutes to fill him in on the facts as they knew them, and another five to spell out Dimitri’s theory on Russians as probable bad guys.
Tassos just listened, and when Andreas finished he sat quietly for another minute or so. ‘I hate to say it, but Dimitri could be right. And if he is…’ Tassos paused and shook his head. ‘Greeks and Russians are getting along pretty well these days, but killing our monks as part of some national plan to bring the Ecumenical Patriarch to Russia
…’ He didn’t bother to finish, just shook his head again. ‘Greece will go nuts. Make that the whole world will go nuts!’
‘Welcome to my life,’ said Andreas. ‘Any idea on where to go from here?’
‘Seems like something for the big boys.’
‘CIA?’
‘Them, or MI6, or a few Middle East shops. They’re the ones most likely, outside of Russia, to know if there’s some basis for Russians possibly being involved. The Cold War never ended as far as they’re concerned. They all keep an eye on each other, like jungle cats stalking the same prey. As for knowing for certain,’ Tassos shrugged. ‘Without a major leak or screw-up by someone directly involved, I doubt anyone will ever know. Killing monks isn’t the sort of operation someone’s likely to brag about, even to clandestine ops buddies.’
Andreas drummed his fingers on the table. ‘If we bring this to one of the big agencies, no telling how they’ll run with it.’
‘Or spin it,’ said Kouros.
Tassos nodded. ‘That’s for sure. Once this gets out it won’t be under your control. The big boys will play it to fit their agendas, which I guarantee you are a lot different from finding who killed an old monk on some tiny Greek island.’
‘I know, that’s why I don’t want to go that way. At least not yet. So far, all we know for certain is first, there’s a monster of a damn mess out there, and second, someone went out of his way to put me in the middle of it. The only chance I see at getting an angle on what’s going on is if I can find that “someone.”’ Andreas looked at Tassos. ‘That’s why I need your help, old friend. Find out who got me into this.’
Tassos smiled. ‘Would you like me to arrange for world peace while I’m at it?’
Andreas laughed. It had taken time, but Andreas had come around to accepting the value of Tassos’ unorthodox police methods and backchannel contacts, as different as they were from his own. ‘You’re the only one I know who actually might be able to do that, too. So, what do you say?’
‘Can’t think of a better thing to do at this point in my life than blindly jump into the middle of a potential religious war with Russia.’
Andreas smiled and touched Tassos arm. ‘Thanks. Once again, I owe you. Big time.’
Tassos grinned. ‘Have you picked out a name for the baby yet?’
Andreas smiled. ‘If a boy, after my father. If a girl, Lila’s mother.’
Tassos nodded. ‘Damn well better. Your dad was the best cop I ever knew.’ Tassos stood up and patted Andreas on the back. ‘Come on, I’ll give you a ride back.’
Andreas stood. ‘Are you sure you want to be seen with us?’
Tassos put his arm around Andreas’ waist and steered him toward the car. ‘My friend, if the Russians are behind this operation they’ve been watching us by satellite all m
orning, and if it’s somebody else
…’ he shook his free hand in the air. ‘Let’s let them know that now they’ve got three of us to deal with.’
Andreas smiled. ‘I feel so much safer now.’
Tassos took his arm from around Andreas’ waist and smacked him on the back of the head.
On the drive back, Andreas called the abbot to set up interviews with the monks they’d missed the day before.
The abbot was apologetic. ‘I’m sorry Chief Kaldis, but I never had the chance to tell them you wanted to speak with them. I only learned this morning that they’d taken a late boat Sunday night in order to be back in their monasteries in time for Easter observances.’
Andreas let out a deep breath.
‘I’ll e-mail you their names and how to get in touch with them as soon I get that information. I’ll also send you copies of whatever computer backup we find for Vassilis’ work, but so far our network administrator has found nothing for him newer than two months ago. Sorry.’
‘Thanks, just get everything to me right away. Okay?’
‘Certainly. Goodbye.’
Andreas looked at the bright side: there was nothing left for him to do on Patmos, at least for the moment. He turned to Yianni in the back seat. ‘Looks like we get to go home.’ Then he looked over at Tassos. ‘Would you like us to give you a lift to Syros? The extra weight is no problem for the helicopter, it’s a big one.’ He smiled.
Tassos gave him the middle finger gesture. ‘Thanks but no thanks. I’ll drop you at the heliport. It wouldn’t be fair to my friend who sailed though the night to get me here by dawn if I left him to make the four-hour return trip home alone.’
For most men, twenty minutes or so in the air versus four-plus hours on a choppy sea back to the island capital of the Cyclades was a no-brainer choice. That, Andreas thought, was another reason Tassos had so many well-connected friends willing to do so much for him: he never took them for granted. Andreas hoped somewhere out there one of those friends had an answer. Any answer.
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