Target: Tinos

by Jeffrey Siger

  “I’d like to start drinking,” said Andreas.

  “Me too,” nodded Tassos. “But not today.”

  Andreas shrugged. “Getting married sober was not how I pictured this day.”

  Tassos laughed. “Coffee?”

  Andreas nodded.

  Tassos put his arm around Andreas’ back and led him up the few steps to the first taverna. Everyone moved aside to make room for the groom, smacking him on the back and teasing him as they did. That was the predictable way for people to treat the groom on his wedding day. Andreas hoped all else remained that way. Predictable.

  ***

  It was now six-thirty and Andreas had successfully resisted most of what seemed a thousand proffered drinks. He had a slight buzz, but nothing he couldn’t handle. Or so he hoped.

  The metal detector was up and running, military were positioned on the far side of the square restricting access to any building with a line of sight at the monastery, and a mix of cops and soldiers prevented vehicles from entering an established perimeter around the area. Everyone entering the monastery had to be on the guest list, show proper ID, and pass through the metal detector. No exceptions. Andreas had done all that could be done, or so he hoped.

  “Are you ready?” asked Tassos?

  Andreas nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “Good, your family just arrived and I think we should head down to the monastery entrance.”

  “I’ll be right back.” Andreas stood and walked toward a door marked WC.

  “Nervous!” said a matronly lady at a nearby table.

  Andreas smiled. “For sure.”

  The lady and the others at her table laughed.

  The bathroom was illuminated by a single, bare light bulb over an unframed mirror above a tiny sink. Andreas pulled a few paper towels from a dispenser, moistened them, and pressed the wet towels against his face. He stood quietly holding them in place for a minute before throwing them in a bin. Andreas looked up and stared at the mirror. People always said he looked like his father.

  “Well, Dad, the day is here. Wish you could be with us.” Andreas cleared his throat, combed his hair, and adjusted his tie. He took another look in the mirror and turned to leave. As he opened the door the light bulb began to flicker and would not stop. Andreas paused and looked back. “Love you too, Dad.”

  ***

  Andreas and his family were standing in a line along the front wall of the monastery greeting arriving guests. When Andreas heard blaring car horns he knew Lila had arrived. He motioned for Tassos to come over to him and whispered in his ear. “No matter what I’d like to think, I know I’m going to be out of it from now until after the ceremony. I’m relying on you.”

  Tassos smiled. “Don’t worry. Just enjoy your wedding.” He patted Andreas on the shoulder.

  Kouros was in front of the metal detector checking identity cards against the guest list. The florist had done a terrific job of covering the detector in flowers, but it still had a serious purpose and a sounding alarm meant a mandatory, no exceptions, physical search. “Be courteous, but firm,” Kouros told the cops assigned to do the screening. “If the detector goes off, no one talks his or her way out of a body search.”

  Andreas heard the three musicians before he saw them. One was playing a santouri dulcimer hung from his neck, striking away at its strings with two small, wooden, cotton-tipped hammers. The two other musicians played accordions. It was the simple, old-style Mykonian way of arriving for a wedding, and about the only thing at the moment that seemed simple to Andreas.

  That, and his decision on what to wear to his wedding: a midnight blue suit, white shirt, and silver-blue tie. But what to wear was simple only because Lila had picked everything out for him. When Lila told him who designed her dress, “just in case anyone asks,” Andreas promptly forgot, but always smiled when the subject came up. He never had the courage to ask her to repeat the name.

  But Andreas had been to enough weddings to know that as much as women might like to say otherwise, weddings were significant fashion events for them. Athenians came dressed to impress, and locals to show they could do better.

  I sure hope no one asks me who designed Lila’s dress, he thought.

  Andreas caught a glimpse of Lila’s father behind the musicians, then a bit of her mother. As soon as the musicians reached Andreas they stepped aside and there was Lila, linked arm-in-arm between her parents, her dark hair pinned back in flowers.

  Andreas felt a smack against his chest. It was the florist jamming the bridal bouquet of white roses into his hands. “You forgot this.”

  Andreas gave a nervous smile. “Thank you,” and wondered what else he might have forgotten. He gave a quick glance at his brother-in-law whom he’d chosen to be his koumbarous, an honor akin to, but far more significant than, best man.

  The koumbarous smiled, and gave Andreas the thumbs-up sign.

  Lila and her parents stopped directly in front of Andreas. First her mother, then her father kissed Lila on each cheek before turning to face Andreas. He embraced them both, everyone smiling. Andreas handed Lila the bouquet and they lightly kissed before turning and stepping toward the archway.

  “You look terrific,” said Andreas.

  Lila smiled. “The color is ivory, it’s a Lanvin gown, Manolo Blahnik shoes, and Susan van der Linde headpiece and veil—just in case Yianni or Tassos ask. If anyone else does, don’t worry. I’ve got you covered.”

  Andreas laughed and squeezed Lila’s hand. At that instant an alarm went off freezing him in his tracks.

  “Sorry about that,” shrugged an obviously embarrassed Kouros. He waved for them to move on through the metal detector. “You can frisk each other later.”

  ***

  The line was moving very slowly. The old man looked at his watch. I knew I should have gone inside before the bride arrived. He put down the four red shopping bags bearing the symbol of his store and waited patiently. The line began to move. He picked up the packages, took a few steps forward, put them down again, and waited to repeat the process. As he approached the archway, he watched two men examining identity cards and checking them against a list of names.

  “Hello, Inspector Stamatos,” said the old man.

  Tassos looked up, “Why Mister Ilias, how nice to see you, sir. How are you?”

  The old man shook his head. “Tired. It was a lot easier carrying wedding gifts from my shop to new brides when I was younger.”

  Tassos smiled. “I remember when you carried a few to my wedding. That was a very long time ago, my friend.” Tassos looked at the shopping bags. “What’s in them?”

  “Candle sticks, silver bowls, picture frames, the usual.”

  Tassos nodded. “Sorry, but you’ll have to go through the metal detector. We can’t make any exceptions.”

  The old man smiled. “I understand. There are a lot of very important people here this evening. But what about the gifts?”

  “No gifts are allowed inside the monastery. You’ll have to take them back to your car and leave them there.”

  The old man’s smile faded.

  Tassos paused for a moment, leaned over, and whispered. “A few family members also forgot they weren’t supposed to bring gifts to the church. Don’t worry, I won’t make you carry them all the way back to your car. Let me have them. I’ll put them with the family’s, in the corner of the courtyard next to the church.”

  The old man nodded thank you and stepped inside, followed by Tassos carrying four carefully wrapped packages.

  Chapter Sixteen

  An organized faith must offer more than words in exchange for the lifetime commitment of one’s soul. Symbols, advocates, and inspiration are required. Andreas and Lila stood before a priest, under the dome of the church, in the presence of the revered icon of Panagia Tourliani prepared to do as centuries of Greek Orthodox brides and grooms had done before on that very spot according to the same traditions.

  Andreas stood to Lila’s right, facing
the altar and the priest. Andreas’ koumbarous was to his right, and to Lila’s left stood her koumbara, her bride’s maid. The church was filled with friends and family and more stood in the courtyard. For the next hour all eyes would be on the soon to be bride and groom; that is, all but those of Tassos, Kouros, and every cop under their command. They would catch the service on video. This was crunch time for preventing an attack.

  Tassos studied the scene around Andreas and Lila. No unexpected faces, objects, or packages, and the silver tray on the small table by the priest held only the usual: a bible, almonds, wine cup and decanter, and two stefana bridal crowns of starched white leather, orange blossoms and ivy joined together by a single silver ribbon. Tassos had checked out the wine and almonds personally. No surprises there. Now to make sure there were none elsewhere. Tassos looked at the couple and smiled. “Good luck, kids,” he whispered to himself and left.

  In the Greek Orthodox faith the priest read from the wedding service as he performed the expected traditional rites, such as touching the wedding bands, and later the stefana, three times to the forehead of the bride and of the groom. But everyone attending a Greek wedding had some traditional part to play.

  The koumbarous and koumbara were charged with switching wedding bands three times from the couple’s left ring fingers—where worn when engaged—to their right where worn when married, and with holding the stefana above the couple’s heads waiting for the moment to switch them three times between bride and groom.

  The bride had the most whimsical, and some said instructive, tradition. Near the end of the service the priest read, “The wife shall fear her husband.” At that point the bride brought to life the expression, “It’s time to put your foot down,” by stepping on her man’s foot to the cheers of onlookers.

  The guests played their parts after the couple drank three times from the common cup and began their ceremonial first steps together as husband and wife. The bride, groom, koumbaroi, and priest circled the small table three times amid a barrage of rice and, in Mykonos tradition, powerful whacks to the groom’s back by his buddies.

  Yes, those were all expected traditions at a Mykonian wedding. What was not were two men in Greek army uniforms bearing Heckler & Koch G3 assault rifles standing directly across from the archway.

  ***

  Tassos had circled the perimeter on foot three times. He looked at his watch. The wedding should be ending soon. Then it would be twenty minutes of Lila and Andreas greeting their guests in the courtyard, and another ten of the koumbaroi gently shooing stragglers out of the courtyard so all could get on to the reception.

  Tassos drew in a deep breath and let out a sigh. It was not one of relief. So far so good, he thought. But only for the moment, there still was a lot of time for all hell to break loose. He’d moved the gifts from the courtyard to his car. No reason to waste time moving them later. Now he was back by the archway, staring across at two armed soldiers standing on the steps leading up to the square.

  The two had moved to that position from the far end of the square only a few minutes before. One of the soldiers had suggested that move to Tassos when Tassos made his first circle of the perimeter. The soldier said that the far end of the square was virtually deserted, and with all possible sniper positions shut down, and six other soldiers keeping an eye on the square, it made more sense for the two of them to be in position by the archway where they could react instantly if necessary.

  Cops already were at the archway, but what the soldier said made sense, if only for the deterrent effect of their ready for armed combat appearance. Tassos thought about the suggestion on his second tour of the perimeter and asked their commander for his opinion on the move when he made his third round. The commander agreed, and that’s how two men with automatic weapons at the ready stood waiting for Andreas and his wife to appear in the archway.

  ***

  Andreas knew this was his wedding. He just wasn’t sure that at all times he was actually present, and not hovering about somewhere watching from afar. His eyes fixed on the holy icon. How many stories she must have heard over the centuries from so many seeking guidance and intervention, how many souls she must have calmed. And how many more her sister icon on Tinos. He glanced at his mother. She was holding Tassaki up so that he could see. She caught his glance and cocked her head slightly up toward the dome. Andreas smiled. Yes, Mom, Dad’s with us. He fought back a tear. Some may have thought it a tear of pain, for at that moment Lila drove her foot onto his.

  Andreas’ first thought was to thank God Lila had used her sole and not the heel. Otherwise, she would have anchored them both to the marble. His second thought was more long term—whether this was how she planned on bringing his wandering thoughts back to the here and now.

  As the two of them followed the priest in their walk three times around the small table, Andreas kept catching back slaps from guys built like bulls. “I should have worn a ballistic vest,” he said to Lila.

  She smiled. “And steel-toe shoes.”

  ***

  The bride and groom were standing in the courtyard greeting the last of the tsunami of well-wishers that had engulfed them in hugs, kisses, and handshakes. Andreas squeezed Lila’s hand. “Well, Missus Kaldis, are you ready to step out and meet your public?”

  “Public?”

  “Paparazzi. They’re waiting outside.” He pointed toward the archway. “We told them to behave until after the ceremony, then we’d give them photo ops. Only way to control them.”

  Lila shrugged. “Where’s Tassaki?”

  “Your parents took him back to the house. It’s just you, big Tassos, and me. We’re taking Tassos’ car.”

  “Why?”

  “So you get to play with the siren and lights on our wedding day,” said Andreas.

  Lila shook her head. “What’s the real reason?”

  “Trying to avoid a lot of unnecessary attention. There’s a crowd of curious people waiting for us on the other side of this wall. They’re expecting us to go to the right, to where your car is waiting. Tassos’ car is off to the left. Ready?”

  Lila didn’t answer, just moved toward the archway and up onto the steps leading out of the courtyard. She waited at the top for Andreas to catch up, and together they stepped through the archway.

  There was an immediate roar of “kalo riziko,” “na zesete,” “vion anthosparton” wishing their marriage “good roots,” “long life,” and “full of flowers.” Louder still was a rush of photographers yelling, “This way, please.” No one seemed to notice the two soldiers slowly raising their rifles, shielded from the couple by the crowd of photographers.

  The first rifle shot was almost lost in the shouts, but Andreas had no trouble making out the second, the third, or the fourth. Photographers scrambled for cover, Tassos drew his gun as he dropped to a crouch. Andreas swept Lila into his arms, shielding her from the direction of the sound of the shots, and leaped through the archway. Inside, he pushed Lila toward cover, pulled out the semi-automatic hidden in his pants, and was back in the archway aiming to return fire.

  The soldiers were still firing, one after another in sequence, but not a single cop was firing back. The cops stood by the wall, guns drawn, watching the two soldiers empty their magazines into the sky as they shouted, “na zesete, na zesete, na zesete.”

  “What the hell’s going on?” said Andreas.

  Tassos shook his head. “Care to bet those assholes are from Crete. That’s what they do at a wedding on Crete, and on virtually every other occasion, fire guns into the air.”

  “Yeah, but not on Mykonos. They scared the hell out of me,” said Andreas.

  Tassos ran his hand over his face. “Me, too. And the paparazzi are still running. Wouldn’t want to be doing their laundry tomorrow.”

  “Are you malakas done yet?” screamed Kouros.

  One soldier gave him the open palm middle finger equivalent. The other yelled, “kalo riziko,” and saluted Andreas.

  Andreas shook hi
s head. “This is too goddamned weird to believe.”

  “If their commander knew they were going to do this I’ll have his balls,” said Tassos.

  Andreas put away his gun. “Let’s just get out of here.” He turned to go back into the monastery for Lila. She was standing in the archway.

  “Sirens, lights, and gunfire? Any more surprises in store?” Lila said

  “Not that I know of,” said Andreas forcing a smile.

  “And don’t tell me this is all Spiros’ doing out of concern for his fellow ministers. I want you to tell me what’s going on.”

  Andreas swallowed. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll tell you everything.”

  “No, I want you to tell me now. I’m not a fool, there’s enough security here for a visit from the President of the United States.”

  “Not really, but I get your point. I promise I’ll tell you everything tomorrow, but it will take too long to explain now and this was all precautionary. There is nothing more to worry about. Honest.” Between a white lie and ruining her wedding, the decision was easy. He’d face the consequences tomorrow.

  Lila stared at him for what seemed an eternity before saying, “Okay, first thing tomorrow morning.”

  As Greek weddings go, that should be about the time the last guest left for home.

  ***

  When they reached Tassos’ car the gifts were on the back seat. Tassos moved them to the front and motioned for Andreas and Lila to get in the back. “What do you want me to do with these?” he said nodding toward the gifts.

  Lila said, “If you wouldn’t mind, could you please give them to Marietta and tell her to put them in our bedroom?” She looked at Andreas. “I’ve no doubt they’ll be a welcome distraction from what I expect you’ll be telling me ‘first thing tomorrow morning.’”

  Andreas swallowed, gunfire tonight, an explosion tomorrow, and fireworks at the party in between. Quite a welcome to married life.

  ***