by Sewell, Ron
“I remember those horrific days. God sent you to me, Petros Kyriades. You were a baby when I carried you in my arms from Famagusta to Larnaca at the time of the invasion.”
Maria poured the tea, taking her own but letting the men get theirs.
“Even so, I am glad you are here.”
“How come you remember my mother? Hundreds, if not thousands fled that day.”
“How could I forget your mama? Innocent, beautiful and her eyes radiated hope when others had given up. But I have a story to tell and I beg you to keep it to yourselves.”
Petros shrugged as he turned towards the others.
“Whatever you tell us, Bishop, will not be repeated. That I can promise.”
“The truth is, for thirty years this has been on my mind.”
Petros studied the bishop’s face. “Please continue.”
“I remember August 1974 as if it were yesterday. I was a young man weeks out of university. I wanted to save the world. I woke to the sound of bombs falling. My heart jumped when a deafening roar filled my ears. Frightened, I tumbled out of my cot as powerful tremors throbbed through my bare feet. A small pottery bedside lamp fell on the flagstones and the icon above my bed crashed to the floor.
“In my mind hundreds of aircraft droned overhead. Their vibrations pulsed through every stone of the church. My fear grew.
“Wearing my long white nightshirt I ran out into the open. I remember a middle-aged woman, dressed in her night clothes, her eyes wide and terrified as she shouted, ‘It’s the Turks.’
“I returned inside. I trembled with fear. I prayed with conviction. ‘Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me.’ I said that same prayer a dozen times over.”
The bishop leaned towards them as if confiding a secret. “I sat on the floor and cried as I listened to the clamour of children screaming, dogs barking and cars sounding their horns. The noise of terror, deafening.
“At that moment I recalled the bishop’s orders. With panic in my heart, I closed the entrance doors and dropped the stout wooden beam into position to secure them. I alone removed every icon from its revered position and studied the complex workmanship. The bishop told me most of them dated back to the sixth century. For the first time, I held the icon of the Virgin Mary.” He raised his hands and hesitated. “History tells us it possessed wondrous powers. Others believed part of the ornate frame surrounding it contained a fragment of the holy cross. It gave me strength. It took me two hours to wrap each hand-crafted icon first in paper and then in tapestries torn from the walls.
“Petros, at my age I do not have the luxury of time, but you are right, it is unfair of me to expect a snap judgement. After all, you will, like Daniel, be entering the lion’s den.”
Petros rose to his feet.
“You say no one knows you hid the icons.”
“That’s correct. The bishop who showed me the hidden chapel died many years ago.”
“I’ll let you know our decision tomorrow.”
* * *
Nitsa peered through the gap in the door, watching and listening. The bishop described the location of the icons in greater detail this time. She prayed that her memory would serve her well. Her lips were dry and she nearly screamed when the intercom sounded. She moved across the hall to answer it.
“Can I help you?”
“Nitsa, it’s Pavlo.”
She pressed the button and opened the main door. Pavlo bounded up the steps.
“What are you doing here? We agreed tomorrow when the bishop goes to Nicosia.”
“I had a job nearby and hoped I might catch you when you weren’t busy.”
“Your dirty mind thinks of one thing. Go. The bishop has important visitors.”
Pavlo sighed, caressed her face, blew a kiss, and walked back to the gates.
Nitsa closed the door. She stood to one side as the bishop, followed by the others, came into the hall.
“Who was at the door, Nitsa,” asked the bishop.
“A gardener looking for work.”
The bishop turned to face Petros. “God go with you.”
“I’ll be in touch,” said Petros.
Nitsa stayed in the open doorway watching them return to their truck.
For lunch, Maria stopped the truck at a nearby taverna. She and Petros ate a tuna salad while Bear devoured the largest pork chop he had ever seen.
“What do you think of our bishop, Bear?”
“Interesting story and maybe the icons are still there. The last time we entered Varosha it was an in and out job. This could take time. Let me sleep on it.”
Chapter Twelve
While eating breakfast Petros spoke to Bear. “Fancy taking Alysa for a walk? We can talk and won’t be overheard.”
“Using your own child for cover. Whatever next?” said Bear, attempting to sound serious.
“Indulge me.”
Bear shook his head and stuffed another slice of buttered toast into his mouth.
Maria descended the stairs with Alysa in her arms. “Say good morning, Alysa.” Alysa gurgled and Bear smiled.
“When my girlfriend’s eaten her breakfast, Petros and I will take her out – give you a break.”
“What a good idea.” Maria placed Alysa in her high chair.
“Wrap her up well,” said Petros. “There’s a cold wind blowing from the mountains.”
“Jocelyn’s having a bath,” said Bear. “I’ll tell her we’ll be gone for an hour.”
* * *
Bear pushed the buggy as they strolled along the narrow lane.
“Fancy a coffee? Alysa enjoys people watching.”
“PK, what you really mean is – without Maria listening.”
Petros winked but kept walking.
They sat outside in the sunshine, out of the wind. Alysa focused her attention on four kittens playing with a dead gecko.
“Bear, what are your thoughts on recovering these icons?”
“The question is how do we enter the hidden chapel?”
“I hope the bishop will tell us, if we accept.”
“Can we do it?”
“What can I get you?” asked a young, dark haired girl in her twenties.
“Two Nescafé, black, please,” said Petros. With a smile, she left.
“We need a plan?”
“Forty icons. That’s a lot.”
“We’ll need transport.”
“PK, we need Maria. She knows the island.”
“I’d like it better if my wife wasn’t a part of this.”
The waitress returned. “Two Nescafé, black. Three euros, please.”
Bear handed over a five-euro note and smiled. “Keep the change.”
He waited until she walked away. “I know she’s your wife and you couldn’t stop her last time. The last thing I want is Maria hurt.”
“Think long and hard. This is one of those jobs where I’d prefer the money before my will is read. In order for it to work we must check everything until there’s no doubt.”
Not entirely formed, an idea blossomed. Petros lowered his voice. “We’ll stay for a few weeks. I’m not rushing this collection.”
He looked at his daughter. “Little madam, by the grunts and groans, is filling her nappy. Time to go.”
* * *
They entered the house moments before thunder rumbled.
“Maria, tomorrow I’m going to the north for a couple of days. Any chance you and Jocelyn can come with us? Aunt Elini and my mum can care for Alysa.”
“Can I come into Varosha with you?”
Petros frowned. “No. I won’t take the risk.”
“I want to help,” Maria said, irritated. “I could drive and be your lookout.”
He put his arm around her, pulled her close and kissed her full on the lips. The sky rumbled again and a streak of lightening flashed behind the clouds. Spots of rain spattered the windows.
* * *
Maria woke early. The late October sunshine flooded the room with gold
en light. She pulled the covers off Petros. “Get up, sleepy head. We have a busy day in front of us.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
She jumped out of bed. “I’m going for a shower – you feed Alysa.”
Petros gave a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
She hit him with a pillow and fell onto the bed.
“We haven’t got time for this, Maria.”
A loud yell from Alysa confirmed it.
* * *
With Bear and Jocelyn in the rear, Maria driving and Petros next to her, they left for Nicosia in Photis’s truck.
Approaching Nicosia on the motorway, the Turkish national flag painted on the hill on the northern side became visible.
“I hate their flag,” said Maria. “They flaunt their occupation in our faces.”
“There’s nothing you or anyone else can do. One day the United Nations will come up with a plan suitable to both sides,” said Bear. “Until that day, ignore it.”
Maria grimaced. “It’s not your island. You can’t possibly understand.”
“I do understand.”
“Why don’t they return to Turkey?” said Maria.
“The Hilton Hotel, folks. Time for lunch. I know Bear won’t argue.”
“You’re damn right.”
With lunch finished, they drove to the crossing from the south to northern Cyprus. The Cypriot guards waved when they passed through but the Turks directed them to a car park.
“Okay,” Maria said, “everybody out and don’t forget your passports.”
The guards dutifully checked them before allowing them through. Another guard directed them to the insurance office where they charged Maria fifteen euros.
It wasn’t long before Maria swung the truck into the forecourt of the Palm Beach Hotel. The brakes squealed loud enough to wake the dead.
“Home sweet home. I see the fountain still doesn’t work.”
“Déjà vu,” said Petros as he glanced at the drab six-storey building. “We know it’s a crap hotel but it’s handy for Varosha.”
“Bear always takes me to the best places,” said Jocelyn.
Black storm clouds chased each other across the sky, shrouding a watery sun. Rain spotted the ground.
“We’d better get inside,” said Petros.
Bear entered first and surveyed the foyer. “Nothing’s changed since our last visit,” he commented.
A few holiday-makers lingered in the lobby.
Five minutes elapsed before a young woman appeared. She was small, with shoulder length brown hair and dressed in a good quality dark blue suit.
“Good afternoon. Can I help?”
Petros answered. “We haven’t booked but do you have two double rooms on the top floor?”
She smiled. “Yes we have our best rooms on the top floor. It’s the end of season. At this moment, we have two available.”
Petros nodded. “Thank you. Can we go on the roof?”
“It’s raining. Why get wet?”
“To enjoy the view,” said Petros. “We’ll take the two rooms and I’ll pay by card.”
“Visa or Diners?”
“Visa.”
She took it and when she had processed it she handed it back. “Your card.”
“What time does the dining room open?” asked Bear.
“Breakfast is from seven to ten. If you require an evening meal my father owns the Sheris. Good food at reasonable prices and excellent service. This is my card. Tell him I sent you and you’ll get a discount.”
“You say the food’s good,” muttered Bear. “My belly thinks my throat’s got a permanent blockage.”
She shrugged and replied, “If you can find better I’ll pay the bill.”
Bear smiled in agreement. “Can’t say fairer than that.”
They took the lift to the top floor and went to their rooms.
Petros dumped their case on the bed and the mattress sagged.
“We’ll be warm and close tonight. This bed’s well used and abused.” He pulled her to him and kissed her ardently.
With eyes sparkling, she pushed him back onto the bed. “Alysa is with your mum and it’s early.”
They made love with an urgency and afterwards lay wrapped in each other’s arms.
Maria glanced at her watch. “A shower before we go out.”
In the bathroom, mould grew between the once white tiles.
When they were both dressed and ready to go, Petros picked up his camera and accessory bag and locked the door behind them. He banged hard on Bear’s door.
“We’re off up to the roof.”
Bear’s voice resounded through the closed door, “We’ll be up in a minute.”
Holding Maria’s hand, Petros climbed the stairs to the roof. The rain had eased. He lifted his binoculars but it was impossible to picture any detail. Two hundred metres away, a grim black hole enveloped Varosha.
They were soon joined by Bear and Jocelyn. “Magic film-set for vampires and the creatures of the night,” said Jocelyn, staring towards Varosha.
“Bear and I have to find a church,” said Petros. “Monsters we can do without.”
“It’s eerie,” said Maria. “Reminds me of the Berlin wall. Once seen never forgotten.”
“You never mentioned you’d been to Berlin,” said Petros.
“A long time ago and ancient history.”
“Why’s that?”
“A man I thought I knew and didn’t. End of story.”
“It’s the same as last time,” said Bear. “A few more weeds, but that’s it.”
Petros had another look through his binoculars. “Getting in is easy but the lack of light will be a problem. We’ll have to get our night vision up and running pretty smartish. Bear, when’s the full moon?”
“I reckon in six, seven, days.”
Petros stared at the ghost town. “I wonder if the army still patrols.”
From the hotel roof he could see the rusted wire fence that determined the difference between life and death, prosperity and stagnation. South of the fence, the once up-market hotels remained uninviting and derelict. Nothing but the Turkish army moved in Varosha. Gone were the tourists, young lovers walking hand in hand. To the north, bright lights shone from hotels and green-painted shuttered house windows. Shops displayed their wares on the streets and tourists wandered around, hunting for a bargain that never truly existed. Local men filled the coffee shops smoking cigarettes and debating.
“PK, I know it’s a trivial matter to racing snakes like you, but I need sustenance.”
Petros nodded. “Let’s go and find The Sheris before the big man fades away.”
On entering the restaurant Petros stopped and stared. The room was crowded. This was obviously the most popular eating-place in town. Tourists filled more or less every table.
The owner, a balding, bespectacled man, welcomed and guided them to a table for four. Three members of staff scurried around serving, taking orders and clearing tables. The room’s décor, faded from many summer suns, remained clean and tidy.
The main course over, Bear wiped his mouth with a napkin and burped.
“Sorry, but those two lamb shanks were great.”
“With the amount you eat how can you say that?” said Jocelyn
“Dearest, I’m an expert on food, as you are with a glass of plonk.”
When the meal was finished they wandered back to the hotel. The sky overhead was dark, but on the odd occasion the moonlight broke through gaps in the rain clouds, forming bizarre patterns.
“I’m going for a walk,” said Petros. “Anyone want to come?” He led the way and the others followed. The rusty wire fence did not extend onto the beach but a sign in many languages stated, ‘ENTRY FORBIDDEN’. At a steady pace, they strolled. A cursory check confirmed its decayed state and obvious crossing points. They walked for half an hour before stopping.
“Well,” said Petros. “Entry is not a problem. But leaving with a whole load of icons will be an e
ntirely different matter. Tomorrow, Bear, will you inspect every inch of this fence from beginning to end. You know what info I need.”
“Will do, PK.”
“While you’re away, Jocelyn and I will go shopping,” said Maria.
“Why is it, wherever we go you end up shopping?” Petros asked.
Jocelyn smiled. “It’s what we do best.”
“You’d better believe it,” said Maria.
“Come along,” said Petros. “Time for bed.”
The clouds rumbled and the next storm began.
Chapter Thirteen
Petros and Maria strolled into the dining room holding hands. Bear and Jocelyn were sitting by a window overlooking the gardens.
“Any good?” asked Petros.
Bear’s face lit up. “These sausages are delicious. You can have as many as you want.”
“You don’t need a plate, you need a trough.”
He grunted while he stuffed a sausage wrapped in beef bacon and dripping with egg-yoke into his mouth.
Maria covered her mouth. “Don’t you two ever stop?” She shook her head, and taking a plate she helped herself to a few slices of toast and a spoonful of marmalade, then joined Bear and Jocelyn. A young man served them coffee.
Petros sipped his. “This tastes like dried mud.”
“Really,” said Bear. “Remember, I’ve tasted your coffee.”
“Shut up. Before I wander along the beach I’m going to find a decent cafe.”
“I always ask for Nescafé. It’s the same the world over.” Bear stood up and scratched his stomach. “I’ve finished. Let’s meet in our room at around five.”
“I’ll buy a good bottle of wine,” said Jocelyn.
“Unfortunately, it won’t be Cypriot,” said Maria.
“Whatever,” said Petros, “we’ll be there.”
“I’m ready, Bear,” said Jocelyn.
Maria nodded. “Me too.”
“You sure?” said Petros. “You’ve eaten one slice of toast and a sip of coffee. That’s not enough to feed a scrawny sparrow.”
“PK, it’s enough.”