‘Tassos, can you talk?’
He pointed to the extension and gestured for Kouros to pick up.
‘Sure. My office line is secure,’ said Tassos.
‘Good, Yianni and I have something to run by you. It’s about that guy who belongs to the phone number you got for us.’ Andreas briefly told him of his meeting with the Protos and that they’d found what he believed Vassilis was passing on to the Protos.
‘How do you know he’s the Protos?’
‘You mean Maggie didn’t tell you?’
Tassos’ tone turned serious. ‘Maggie and I have a wonderful relationship. She refuses to tell me anything about the other men in her life, and I don’t ask.’ He laughed.
Andreas chuckled. ‘Fair enough. She recognized his voice when transcribing the tape. He’s the Protos, for sure. Do you know him?’
‘Yes, but he’s in his seventies, and I knew him when he was a lot younger. I’d just started out on the force and he wasn’t protos then, just a priest visiting my guests.’
Andreas knew Tassos was referring to his time guarding political prisoners. He wondered if the Protos had followed Tassos’ strategy of making friends with the inmates, so that if they returned to power he’d still have friends in government.
‘He was pretty respected, though, even back then,’ said Tassos.
‘By whom?’
‘Everyone, as far as I could tell. After all, the junta let him visit prisoners. And they were paranoid about visitors serving as messengers, especially clerics.’
‘So they trusted him?’
‘As far as I could tell. Why, is that what you’re worried about, trusting him?’
‘You’re as bad as Lila, always reading my mind.’
‘Hopefully you’re thinking different thoughts around her.’
Kouros laughed.
‘Glad one of you likes my humor. And to answer your question, I never heard anyone suggest, “Don’t trust him.” But that could mean one of two things: either he can be trusted, or is so devious no one could tell that he can’t be.’
‘So which is it?’
‘Damned if I know. And the fact he’s as important as he is in the church doesn’t prove anything one way or the other.’
‘Tell me about it,’ said Kouros.
Andreas rolled his eyes at Kouros. ‘Spare me, please.’ He cleared his throat and said to Tassos, ‘What’s your instinct?’
Tassos let out a deep breath. ‘Can’t say, haven’t spoken with him in years, and rarely does he appear in public anymore. Don’t even know whom to ask without it getting back to him for sure. I think you’ll have to go with your gut. If you’re so worried about trusting him, I assume it’s critical.’
‘It’s the whole game. If he’s on the wrong side… I don’t want to think about it.’
‘Good luck.’
‘Yeah, thanks.’
‘Love to Lila.’
Andreas hung up and stared out the window. He spoke as if thinking aloud. ‘Why would the Protos have pushed so hard for an investigation if he was involved as a bad guy? Then again, if he was worried someone might make the connection — like by finding what’s on that flash drive — that kind of move gave him a former prime minister to vouch for him as the champion of the impartial investigation. What a super-smart move. And ballsy.’
Andreas let out a breath, turned to Kouros, and shrugged. ‘ Maggie, get in here. Please.’
The door swung open. ‘If you want to know about the photos-’
‘Is everyone reading my mind today? How the hell did you know I wanted to ask you about the Protos?’
Maggie walked over to his desk, leaned over, and exaggeratingly enunciated, ‘I said “photos,” not protos. The guru said he didn’t have to look at the photos again. The photo with the Protos was the original. Everything else was added on.’
‘Why didn’t he tell us that in the first place?’ said Andreas.
‘My guess is, he didn’t like being “dragged” by his “whatever,” so if you guys didn’t ask, you didn’t get.’ Maggie handed him a pencil. ‘Here, snap and throw one, it will relax you.’
Andreas just stared at her. ‘I need your knee-jerk instinctive yes-or-no reaction to something.’
She nodded.
‘Do you think the Protos could be one of the bad guys?’
‘No.’
He nodded. ‘Okay, that’s good enough for me.’
‘Please God,’ Maggie added, and crossed herself.
Jeffrey Siger
An Aegean Prophecy
10
Easter was the main event in Eastern Orthodoxy. No day was as hallowed or meaningful, and it was preceded by more than a week of significant religious observations and cultural traditions. As much as Greeks complained about the workings of their church — along with every other hierarchical institution touching their lives — there was no question whatsoever of their deep loyalty to their faith. No more so, perhaps, than on Patmos, except of course for Mount Athos. In fact, you couldn’t pick a worse time than Easter Week for trying to get the attention of churchmen in either place. That made Andreas’ complicated investigation even trickier.
He wondered if that was coincidence, or part of some, he hoped, not divine plan.
Still, using the Protos’ private number Andreas was able to get him on the phone and pressed him to meet immediately. At first the Protos resisted, saying he couldn’t possibly leave Mount Athos again this week. His absence would attract too much attention. Andreas said that for the same reason it was not wise for him to come to Mount Athos. ‘Attention is something neither of us wants, considering what I have to show you.’
At that the Protos suggested they meet in Ouranoupolis, a seaside village at the threshold to the Holy Mountain, ninety miles slightly southeast of the city of Thessaloniki. It was about as close as you could get to Mount Athos by road, as one of its ancient laws forbade ‘a road upon which a wheel can run’ to connect it to the rest of the world. The village — whose name meant ‘city of the heavens’ — was where pilgrims presented their required visiting permits to the Athos Bureau and waited at the edge of the sea for boat passage, inevitably staring up at the mysterious fourteenth-century Byzantine Tower of Prosforiou dominating the harbor. The Protos said he could explain it as a quick, necessary trip to the bureau office.
Three hours later it was Andreas’ turn to sit in a room in a stranger’s house waiting for a monk to arrive. It was one of many whitewashed, red tile roof houses multiplying along the green hillsides edging the port village.
I’m a sitting duck, Andreas thought. All alone in the middle of nowhere, waiting to show something to someone that got the last guy who tried the same thing sliced ear-to-ear. Terrific. Maggie, if your instincts were wrong The front door burst opened and sunlight filled the doorway. Andreas instinctively stood up. Someone stepped inside. He couldn’t make out a face against the light, but from the eclipse the figure caused Andreas knew who it was. ‘Afternoon, Sergey.’
No answer, but Andreas made out a nod. The Protos stepped out from behind him. Andreas waited until Sergey had left and closed the door, then he stepped forward and kissed the Protos’ hand. ‘Thank you for seeing me, Your Holiness.’
‘I understood it was important.’ He seemed focused on wanting to hear what Andreas thought so serious.
Andreas nodded. ‘I know you’re very busy, so let me get right to the point.’ He reached under his shirt and pulled out a large manila envelope tucked flat into his pants. ‘No reason to attract attention.’ Andreas had decided to keep any parallels to Vassilis’ fate to a minimum — and a 9mm strategically concealed in a holster over his family jewels. He pulled out two eight-by-sixteen photographs and handed them to the Protos. ‘Here.’
The Protos looked quickly at one, then the other. He held one up, looked at it more closely, and handed it to Andreas. ‘That one was taken the day I became protos.’ He studied the other for about a minute. He shrugged. ‘It’s a little hard
to make out details, my eyes aren’t what they used to be.’
Andreas reached into the envelope and pulled out a magnifying glass. ‘This should help.’ Thank God for Maggie. She thought that might happen, even with the greatly enlarged photos.
The Protos nodded thank you, and sat down on a chair by a table beneath a window draped in white lace. Andreas didn’t move. He preferred standing, watching the Protos carefully study each face.
After five minutes or so, the Protos put down the magnifying glass and pointed to a chair next to him. ‘Please, my son, sit.’
Andreas did, but on a chair on the other side of the Protos, facing the door.
The Protos didn’t seem to care. ‘Where did you get these?’
‘They were on a computer flash drive Kalogeros Vassilis had hidden in a cross he was carrying when he was murdered.’
The Protos smiled. ‘Ah, Vassilis, resourceful until the end. Always hiding things in the most obvious, yet overlooked, places.’ He pressed his finger against the photo four times. ‘Just like here, I’m certain of it.’
‘What did you find?’
‘May I see the other photograph again?’
Andreas handed it to him.
The Protos bobbed his head through a face-by-face comparison of the photographs. ‘Yes, just as I thought. The faces superimposed on the abbots of the twenty monasteries attending my ceremony are of monks from those same abbots’ monasteries. But, with the exception of three who have succeeded to a position of abbot, none of the others holds any significant hierarchical position in his monastery.’
‘What about the three new abbots? Were they important before in their monasteries?’
The Protos paused. ‘No.’
‘Then how did they become abbots?’
‘The monks in their monasteries elected them.’
‘Weren’t you surprised?’
He nodded. ‘As a matter of fact, yes. Our abbots are elected to serve for life, and there seemed so many more qualified, seasoned candidates available.’ He shrugged. ‘But such is the way of democracy.’
‘How did the three they replaced die?’
‘Die? Oh no, only one died.’ He spoke as if Andreas were implying they’d been murdered. ‘And he was very old. Another moved on to a different monastery away from Mount Athos, and the third… uhh… resigned.’
Andreas knew from the newspapers about the third one’s resignation. He was the abbot caught up in the scandal that haunted Vassilis. ‘Can you think of any reason why these twenty-one men are in this photograph?’ He pointed to the doctored photo.
‘I only recognize twenty faces. And I have no idea why they appear.’
Andreas asked for the names and monasteries linked to the superimposed faces, and took great care to write them down — so as not to make completely obvious that he was recording their conversation.
‘Which face don’t you recognize?’
He looked grim. ‘The face replacing mine.’ He pointed to a blurred image. ‘It looks familiar but I can’t quite make it out. Do you have a better copy?’
‘No, it’s exactly as it appeared on the drive.’
‘Knowing Vassilis, I’m surprised he’d have made such a significant mistake.’
‘Maybe it was meant to be that way?’
The Protos shrugged. ‘Perhaps.’
‘What do you make of the empty chairs and the carpet?’
The Protos picked up the glass and looked again at the photograph. ‘Not much, they seem the typical gold tone and red velvet chairs so favored by our monks. It’s a style you see in almost every abbot’s office.’
‘And the carpet?’
He shrugged. ‘Again, a patterned oriental of a type I see everywhere.’
Andreas reached into the envelope. ‘There was something else on the drive.’ He handed him the note. ‘What do you think this means?’
The Protos read it quickly, then read it again much more slowly. He picked up the doctored photograph and magnifying glass. Andreas noticed the glass start to shake, then the photo. At first ever so slightly ‘My God.’ The Protos crossed himself three times, apparently not realizing he was holding the glass in his hand as he did. He held up the photograph to Andreas. ‘The chairs, the twenty-four chairs. Saint John saw twenty-four elders in twenty-four chairs immediately after the beginning of his vision. Their meaning is a source of rich debate, but in this photograph I have no doubt what Vassilis is trying to tell me.’ He waved the photograph at Andreas.
‘This symbolizes the twenty-four survivors of Armageddon who will represent the church’s resurrected faithful when the Kingdom of Heaven has come. I’m not saying that is Vassilis’ view, but it’s the message he’s passing me through symbols from Revelation he knew I’d recognize.’ He paused. ‘And he sees them in the presence of great evil.’
‘Okay, now you’ve completely lost me.’ Andreas felt a bit like a kid caught unprepared for Sunday school.
The Protos’ expression did not change. ‘Every symbol, every word, and certainly every number in Revelation has spawned endless interpretations, many with significant distinctions having little in common with each other. “The pearly gates,” “streets of gold,” “harps in heaven,” “seven seals,” and, of course, “666” are just some of them. But that is the way of apocalyptic writing. It is highly symbolic and can be made to serve many purposes, some good, others not.’
There was a subtle change to the Protos’ voice; he was sounding more and more like a teacher. ‘Perhaps it would be helpful, my son, to give you what many call “the bottom line.” Without the additional chairs, there are three rows of seven men in seven chairs. There are a lot of sevens in Revelation. Indeed, the very Book of Revelation is written as a message to seven churches. My guess is that Vassilis added three abbot-style chairs to a picture of twenty one to take attention off the distracting number seven, and put it on the number twenty four which, to someone familiar with Revelation,’ he smiled at Andreas, ‘could only mean the twenty-four elders.’
‘Okay, but-’
The Protos held up his hand. ‘I know, I’m still going too fast. For some, the twenty-four represent the leadership of the church that will emerge after the coming of our Lord.’
After all hell’s broken loose as I recall, thought Andreas.
‘That was not his thinking, but I’m sure Vassilis replaced the faces and added the chairs to make clear to me when I read “the time is in their hands” that the men in the photo are seeking to change the church.’
Andreas let out a breath. ‘Okay, let’s assume you’re right about what Vassilis was trying to tell you, and that he’s right about the monks in the photo wanting to be the new leaders of the church, I still don’t see how any of that makes any of them “evil.” At most it sounds like they may be out of step with prevailing church politics.’
The Protos shook his head. ‘This is not a question of politics. And I’m not saying the men in that photograph are “evil,” nor did Vassilis. What I said is, “He sees them in the presence of great evil.”’
‘I’m sorry, Your Holiness, I need another “bottom line” moment here.’
The Protos pointed to the carpet in front of the image that replaced his own. ‘If you look closely at the carpet you can make out a pattern. It took me a moment to recognize it, but once I did I immediately realized that the face replacing mine wasn’t from a photograph, it’s from a famous painting.’ He let out a breath and put down the glass. ‘The carpet pattern is of a dragon, and both the dragon and the blurred image represent the same thing.’ He crossed himself. ‘Satan.’ He crossed himself again.
Andreas just stared at the photograph. This was turning into one of those days he wished he’d become anything but a cop. How do you tell this man, respectfully, to come back to the real world so we can solve a real world crime?
‘Okay, I hear you, Your Holiness, but what flesh and blood proof is there for any of this?’
The Protos looked up and stared into And
reas’ eyes. ‘My son, Vassilis is dead.’
‘I haven’t felt that stupid in a long time.’ And on that note, Andreas finished describing his meeting to Kouros.
‘Yeah, I guess, “Vassilis is dead,” was sort of the obvious answer to your question.’
‘Sort of? I felt as if I were back in elementary school getting taken apart by a teacher.’
Kouros kept his eyes on the road. ‘Just trying to make you feel better.’
Andreas smiled. ‘Thanks, but it’s not working.’
‘So, where do we go from here?’
‘The Protos has gone back to Mount Athos, promising if anything else comes to mind he’ll let me know. As for where we go, it’s back to the office and the sexy side of police work.’
‘Sitting in a car for hours eating spanikopita?’
‘Better. Reading everything we can find on every monastery and every monk in Mount Athos. Which reminds me, what did you dig up on the Protos’ buddy, Sergey?’
‘Nothing bad. Yeah, he was one mean motherfucker in his army years, but no war crimes stuff. Seems to fit the profile for many who lose themselves in monasteries. They’ve seen it all, done it all, and now want to forget it all.’
Andreas nodded. ‘And what about that computer backup the abbot promised to send us?’
‘Maggie said it arrived this morning, but nothing on it as far as she can tell except for esoteric comments by Vassilis on church doctrine and liturgy. She actually likes that stuff.’
‘Well, I’m about to make her even happier by getting her started on pulling things off the Internet.’ He picked up his phone and dialed Maggie’s number.
‘Should I get them here or wait until after the helicopter lands in Athens?’ asked Kouros.
Andreas was holding the phone to his ear, waiting for Maggie to pick up. ‘Get what?’
‘The spinach pies. I think five dozen should be enough. After all, twenty major monasteries, no telling how many related places, and a couple of thousands monks. How long can that possibly take?’
‘Like I said, thanks for trying to make me feel better, and the next time you — Hello, Maggie…’
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