Prey on Patmos

by Jeffery Siger

  “I’m not so sure about that, Director.”

  An actual answer to one of his questions caught Yakov off guard. “‘Not so sure’ of what?”

  Artur kept reading through the attachments as he spoke. “We’ve received reports of someone attempting to locate the source of the dioxin used on the Ukrainian. At first we thought it was a journalist trying to wring yet another story out of the incident. Maybe even Yushchenko himself trying to find some way to revive his political fortunes with more emotional tales from the past.

  “But then we learned that someone actually was trying to buy dioxin from that same source, and not just any dioxin, but the exact formulation found in Yushchenko. At that point we inserted our operatives into the transaction. We wanted to know who was so interested.” Artur turned to face Yakov.

  “We do not know who the buyers are. There have been no face-to-face communications, but we do know two things. One,” he raised his right hand and popped out his index finger. “The language used by the buyers was Serbian, and two,” out came the middle finger. “Delivery is to take place in Greece. In Ouranoupolis.”

  Yakov’s pulse was racing but his voice was flat. “The gateway to Mount Athos. This changes everything.” He drummed his forehead with the fingers of his left hand. “Forget about looking for signs of the devil. This intrigue is a sign of the Butcher. Calculating, ruthless, deadly. Any idea of the target?”

  Artur shook his head. “None.”

  “If Zacharias is the Butcher, whatever is planned will strike directly at our heart. We cannot permit that. When is delivery to take place?”

  “There’s no exact time, a messenger with the package is to wait by a taverna in the port for contact to be made.” He looked at his watch. “Between twelve and eighteen hours from now.”

  Yakov picked up the phone and dialed his wife. He and a lot of other people would be missing church tonight.

  ***

  It was almost midnight. Saint Dionysios on Skoufa Street in Kolinaki was packed. Andreas hadn’t been to this church before, or for that matter, to any church, in a very long time. He’d gone with Lila to a wedding in a small church on Stisichorou Street behind her apartment, and managed to miss a couple of baptisms there, but this was the first time he’d been to her parents’ church. They had insisted the “entire family” be together tonight, and that included Andreas’ mother and his sister’s family.

  Andreas wondered if they could tell, if his sin showed. He was lucky they weren’t the kind to talk in church. He feared he might confess despite Maggie’s warning. He was holding Lila’s hand and looking at his mother sitting next to him on his left. She was beaming. He knew what she was thinking: my family, all together in church, and my son happy at last with the right woman, his…his friend. Yes, that was what she insisted on calling Lila. Andreas had told his mother she could call Lila his wife, that Lila wouldn’t mind. “But I would,” was his mother’s response. Not until they were married in church would she call Lila her son’s wife, no matter how much she wished it were so.

  Andreas felt Lila squeeze his hand and he turned to face her.

  She was smiling at him and patting her belly. “Baby’s happy, too.”

  If he confessed, he’d destroy the lives of the two people he loved most in the world. He could never do that. He’d have to live with what he’d done, accept it, and try to become better for it. He felt no guilt at his decision. Quite the contrary: for the first time in a very long time Andreas was at peace.

  ***

  The chanting and prayer had hit its peak, bells were ringing, rejoice, Christos Anesti.

  But Zacharias saw no joy about him, only mindless, rote prayer without purpose. He needed to escape this. Next year would be different. He would move on. It was not unheard of to switch monasteries. He needed a more civilized base for his plans, somewhere he could flourish and never be incommunicado again. There was too much at stake, too many in need of his guidance. His flock was prey to wolves without its shepherd. No, this year he would move on. There were many monasteries here that would accept him with joy. All he needed was the consent of his abbot. No problem, if the old tyrant were fool enough to refuse, it would be he who moved on.

  Yes, the time to emerge from these depths was at hand. He was certain of it.

  ***

  Now was the fun part of Easter in Greece, at least for those skipping out of church at midnight, carrying candles lit by fire from the Holy Flame of Christ’s nativity cave in Jerusalem into their homes or favorite restaurants. Andreas and the family chose the latter, a fairytale place in the National Gardens next to the breathtaking nineteenth century Zappeion Megaron, the first building constructed specifically for the purpose of reviving the Modern Olympic Games.

  They had challenged each other with the customary smacking of dyed-red eggs for good luck to the winner, devoured the traditional mayiritsa soup to break the fast, left very little of the salads, and very little of the wine, leaving Lila the only fully sober one at the table, and not by choice.

  “The baby’s on the wagon,” was Lila’s excuse to every well-wisher passing by their table and offering a toast.

  It was two thirty in the morning and Lila was text messaging furiously. Reading, writing, reading, writing.

  “What’s going on?” Andreas asked.

  “It’s Barbara. You can’t believe what she’s telling me.”

  His heart stopped. Deny, deny, deny. No, not this time. He thought to beat her to the punch. “Lila—”

  She burst out laughing. “I don’t believe her. She’s one of a kind.” Lila turned to Andreas, all smiles. “First of all, she said to send you her love and that you gave a ‘tremendous performance.’”

  I wonder if Maggie has talked to her yet, Andreas thought.

  “I had invited her to join us for dinner, she should have been here hours ago.”

  Maggie better have, but if she had she’d have told me.

  “But she can’t make it.”

  Thank God.

  “Because she’s in Moscow.”

  You’ve got to be kidding me!

  “She was at the airport waiting to catch the last plane back to Athens, and guess who she ran into?”

  Good thing she didn’t know more than that I needed an escort.

  “Your Russian from last night. He convinced her it would be a lot more fun to celebrate Easter in Moscow than Athens. She said to tell you she decided to go. ‘So it wouldn’t be a total loss.’ What does that mean?”

  “Got me. She’s a bit wacky.”

  “I’ll say.” Lila laughed again. “Barbara, Barbara, you never fail to amaze me.”

  I’ll say.

  ***

  “Thanks for inviting me. You were right, Easter dinner alone on Mykonos would have been a downer.”

  Tassos patted Kouros on the arm. “Hey, you’re family. Besides, I didn’t have to cook. He did.” Kouros pointed to a man hurrying toward them with plates stacked along his left arm from fingertips to elbow. He was the vision of a Greek leprechaun with a round, rosy-cheeked face, twinkling eyes, and a Greek fisherman’s mustache.

  “Steline,” the leprechaun shouted, “hurry with the rest of the plates before this old bastard from Syros arrests me.”

  “I see he knows you.”

  Tassos smiled and nodded. “Yeah, we’ve spent many a night together here behind city hall, closing up his place and exchanging lies. It started out as a locals’ place, now it’s the most famous taverna on the island. Everybody comes here.”

  Kouros looked over Tassos’ shoulder at someone aimed straight for their table. “Oh, boy. Were you ever right.”

  “What are you talking—”

  “You miserable fucking piece of shit!” And thus began a thirty-second string of expletives delivered at disco club volume. Tourist heads jerked around to see who was about
to be murdered. Locals just shrugged and continued on with Easter dinner; it was only Katerina doing her warpath thing.

  Tassos braced himself, then came a smack to the back of his head.

  Kouros smiled. “I see you’ve been through this before.”

  Tassos stayed braced. “She’s not done yet.”

  Smack. She did it again, then another.

  Tassos relaxed. “I think she’s done.”

  “I heard that, asshole,” and gave him another slap.

  Tassos turned to face her. “Christos Anesti, Katerina mou. Please, join us.”

  She was shaking her fist in his face and stopped only long enough to say, “Alithos Anesti,” before starting in on him again. “How could you have done that to me? Set me up so badly.” Tassos pulled out a chair as she raged on. Katerina sat down without missing a beat in her diatribe. “I have never been so embarrassed in all my life.”

  “I assume you know all of my cousins.” Tassos pointed to the people around the table. “And, of course, Yianni Kouros.”

  Katerina nodded and smiled to all the cousins, then looked at Kouros. “You’re as bad as this one,” pointing to Tassos.

  Kouros decided to follow Tassos’ lead. “Christos Anesti.”

  “Alithos Anesti.” She turned back to Tassos and repeated, “How could you have done that to me?”

  Tassos sighed. “Katerina, what did I do to you?”

  “You set me up. You knew I would tell Vladimir.”

  Tassos leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “I love you, really I do. You’re one of a kind. Here, have a drink.” He handed her a glass of wine. “Yamas.”

  Katerina, Tassos, and Kouros clinked glasses and drank.

  “Miserable bastards,” she said. Then she poured the three of them more wine. “I feel almost as stupid as some of my dumb-ass clients, the ones who think they’re so smart and end up getting conned. Like you did me!” She didn’t smack this time, just shouted.

  They sat together for about an hour, mostly letting Katerina vent but having fun as well. She was terrific company.

  “And that bitch who was making a play for Vladimir.”

  “What bitch?” said Tassos.

  “Baarrrrbarrraaa.” Katerina drew out the name as a child would in a schoolyard taunt.

  “She was hitting on him?” asked Kouros.

  “Fellas, please. How blind and naïve are you men? Believe me, I know how to hit on a man and I can tell you, that bitch is a master.”

  “What are you talking about?” said Tassos.

  “That’s right, you weren’t there to watch the show. No woman would allow a man to stroke her back as she did if she weren’t interested. And then she’d make just enough of a subtle push back against Vladimir’s hand to let him know he had a shot at her. He was so hard I thought he’d come on the spot.”

  Neither cop bothered to ask how she knew that.

  “But Andreas better be careful. Vladimir is no one to fuck around with. Don’t forget where or how he made his money. It took a body count as well as brains to make what he made in Russia. People tend to die who get in his way. I never forget that, and Andreas better not either.”

  Tassos shrugged. “Thanks, but Andreas has nothing to worry about.” He didn’t bother to say there would be no competition for the woman.

  Katerina poured more wine into their glasses. “Let’s hope Vladimir sees it that way. For all our sakes.”

  ***

  “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” As Barbara moaned she thrust her hips up to meet his, her legs wrapped around his back, squeezing and touching wherever she could.

  I can’t believe this woman, thought Vladimir. It’s our third time since the plane landed. And that one time in the air. His mind was lost in her completely and without warning he was on the verge again. My God, how does she know how to do this? As if on cue, she touched him in just the right place at just the right moment, and from that instant on it was nothing but, “Barbara, Barbara, Barbaraaaahhhhhhhh.” They came together. Again.

  They lay together in the dark without moving. Then she gently stroked her fingers along his spine.

  “Where have you been all my life?”

  “Athens.”

  He laughed. “I hope you like Moscow.”

  “A nice place to visit.”

  “But you wouldn’t want to live here?”

  “Vladimir, are you proposing?”

  He laughed. “You have too many boyfriends for me.”

  She patted him on the back. “Don’t start getting jealous on me.”

  He cringed. She probably was right about that. “Well, I can’t help remembering what that policeman said.”

  “Andreas?”

  “Yes. I bumped into him the day after we met and he said, ‘Obviously, you’ve never slept with Barbara.’”

  “I have no idea how that subject ever came up, but one thing’s for sure, we both know he’d be wrong now, darling.”

  “Yeah, but it still bothers me.”

  She grabbed his dick and squeezed it. Then pulled at it twice. “My love, that’s the most Andreas ever got from me, and he was out cold when I did it. All I did was rub some lubricant on his dick so when he woke up he’d think he’d had me, and could have me again. I wanted to see if he was like every other man chasing after my girlfriend, Lila. He’s not. Darling, he’s my best friend’s almost-husband, I’d never screw him. He just needed me for company for the night.” She kissed his cheek. “There, that’s the truth. So, now, do you feel better?”

  It was dark in the room so Barbara couldn’t see his face. It was not a look of joy. “Excuse me, my love, I must make a telephone call.” Vladimir left the room.

  ***

  “Anatoly, we have a problem.”

  “Vladimir, it’s almost five o’clock in the morning.”

  “We’ve been set up.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The cop used the woman to get next to me. It’s been a hustle from the very beginning. He wanted to make me curious enough to break into the woman’s house, copy the information, and pass it on—to make it seem real and legitimate. We have to stop it.”

  “We can’t. It’s too late.”

  “I was afraid of that. Then we must do whatever it takes to make it seem that the information did not come from me. I’m certain I’m being set up as the link to something intended to embarrass Mother Russia and get me sent off to a gulag.” Or worse, he thought but did not say. “I wonder which of my enemies is behind this.”

  “Vladimir, relax. We can come up with another source, one that covers both of us. But who else knows about your involvement in all this?”

  “Only the cop, as far as I know.”

  “Then he must be eliminated.”

  “What about the woman?”

  Vladimir paused. “I think not. She knows nothing more than that she was to be his companion for the evening.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is going to cost a lot of money.”

  “That is not a problem.”

  “I didn’t think it would be.”

  “Just do it. And leave no witnesses.”

  “It will take a couple of days to organize, but consider it done.”

  Vladimir hung up the phone. Too bad, he thought, I kind of liked that cop.

  ***

  Andreas knew he had no control over what he’d set in motion. Too many variables, too many different agendas involved. No telling what might happen. All he knew for certain was that this time he’d done the right thing. He just hoped no innocents suffered because of him if the Russians decided to act. Unlike the traditional Italian concept of a hit—assassinate just the offending one—Russians were prepared to blow up a room full of people as long as th
ey took out their target.

  That thinking led him to other thoughts and other concerns. For those who believed in heaven and hell there was always hope that good would prevail and bad would be punished. For those who didn’t believe it was a tougher call, because bad guys didn’t play by the rules, giving them a decided advantage. As Andreas saw it, a cop could be a believer in his heart, but damn well better think like a Dirty Harry nonbeliever on the job.

  He decided to spend the rest of the week keeping an eye on Lila, just to be on the safe side. Besides, it was a good excuse for sharing what remained of their pre-baby era of life. He couldn’t imagine being happier, no matter what the future brought.

  But he also told Maggie to keep up on the news from Mount Athos, just in case.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Free at last. Praise the Lord. It was noon, and the monastery’s doors at last were open. Everyone was off to eat, then to sleep. Forty days of fasting without meat, fish, cheese, butter, or eggs had taken much of their energy. But Zacharias had no time for that. He had to hurry to catch the fast boat from the port of Daphni to Ouranoupolis and be back in time for supper at seven in the Russian abbot’s monastery. A two-hour mountain road walk to the bus, a half-hour ride to the boat, a one-hour voyage aboard the Little Saint Anna, and a return voyage getting him back to Daphni before evening prayers at six was the plan. Thank God the Russian monastery wasn’t far from Daphni. Still, it would be close.

  As he hurried along the dirt path toward where the bus would be, he fiddled with his cell phone. He couldn’t get it to work. Couldn’t be the battery, he’d left it in the charger all week. Then it hit him. He’d also left the phone on, just in case a message somehow got through—and the abbot must have turned off all electricity into the monastery. The phone was dead. Damn, damn, damn.

  He quickened his pace. No matter, he’d assume the worst, that none of them made it to Ouranoupolis and he’d have to do this alone. He could do it. He could do anything.