An Aegean Prophecy

4

It was nearly sundown by the time they finished interviewing those they could find on the abbot’s list. A few visiting monks were out wandering about the island. The abbot said he would arrange for them to be available in the morning. Dozens of interviews had yielded two things: a mound of praise for a revered man, and zero leads. No one saw the monk leave, knew why he left, or had any idea of who might be involved in his death.

They were standing in the piazza by the monastery’s gift shop. It was closed and the piazza virtually deserted. ‘No way some local did this,’ said Andreas.

‘Way too professional,’ said Kouros. ‘But why?’

Andreas shrugged. ‘My guess is vengeance or fear. But it had to be a hell of a motive to lead to this.’

‘You think it might be tied to Vassilis’ past, from before he became a monk?’

Andreas shook his head. ‘I doubt it. Can’t imagine whatever drove this taking forty years to come to a head.’

‘Maybe one of the visiting monks noticed something?’

‘Maybe,’ said Andreas, looking at his watch. ‘Jesus, I never called Lila to tell her I wouldn’t be home tonight.’

‘Don’t worry, I spoke to Maggie and told her to call.’

Thank God for his secretary. Maggie ran Andreas’ office. Most thought she ran all of Athens General Police Headquarters, better known as GADA. She’d been there longer than the building. Maggie’s long-time boss had retired a few weeks before Andreas was promoted back to GADA from Mykonos, and when the human resources director suggested she retire with him, the political buttons she pushed had the director staring at his own retirement. That’s how the legendary Maggie Sikestis came to report to Andreas — or, as it so often seemed to Andreas, vice versa.

Andreas let out a breath. ‘Thanks, Yianni.’ They started toward the stone path leading back to the town square.

‘No problem.’ Kouros smiled. ‘But to be honest, Maggie said she’d already called her.’

Both laughed.

‘ My friends, please, come join me.’ It was Dimitri shouting to them from his open front door.

That guy doesn’t miss a thing, thought Andreas. ‘Thanks Dimitri, but-’

‘You haven’t eaten yet, have you? And if they fed you inside,’ he pointed toward the monastery as he spoke, ‘you must be even hungrier.’

Andreas looked at Kouros, shook his head, and smiled. ‘Okay, we give up.’

They followed Dimitri into the restaurant and out onto the balcony. It was packed with tourists staring off into a pink, blue, and silver sunset.

‘Here, please sit, I’ve been saving your table.’ He waited until they sat, then hurried back inside.

Kouros whispered, ‘Can’t be too careful around that guy. I wonder if he’s a spook.’

‘Wouldn’t bet against it. Greece is full of spies. It’s part of our history. The question is, a spy for whom?’

‘The church?’

‘If he is a spy, that would be my guess. That’s who’s most likely to want to know what’s going on inside.’ Andreas gestured toward the monastery with his head. ‘And this guy has the best location on the island. He sees everyone going in and out, and between the restaurant and his personality, has the perfect cover for starting conversations with all of them.’

‘Who in the church do you think he’s working for?’

‘I don’t even have an idea of which church. Is it the church in Greece, the church in Constantinople, the church somewhere else?’

‘Like Rome?’

‘Anything’s possible, especially with all the power, money, and influence involved with this place. Then again, it could be just some political rival from another island or monastery. Who knows?’

‘Here you are, something to start.’ Dimitri plunked down a bottle of ouzo, a small pitcher of water, a bowl of ice, and a plate overflowing with olives, sardines, cheese, sausage, cucumber, and tomato. ‘A bit of meze.’ Then he put down three glasses.

Andreas looked at Kouros, smiled, and thought, looks like this time we won’t have to invite him to join us.

Dimitri pulled up a chair and sat down facing Andreas. ‘So, how did your visit go with His Holiness?’

‘Your permit is on its way.’

‘Really?’ He sounded legitimately excited.

Andreas shook his head. ‘No, sorry, the subject never came up. But if it does, I promise to push it.’

Dimitri let out a breath. ‘The bastards.’ He poured himself some ouzo, added ice and water, and took a gulp. ‘I’ll never get it.’

Andreas thought, if Dimitri really is a spy he’s terrific at maintaining his cover. ‘So, Dimitri, tell me what you know about any strangers hanging around the monastery recently.’

Dimitri put down his glass. ‘You want to know about strangers on Patmos around Easter Week? You must be kidding me. It’s one of our busiest times of the year. We are surrounded by strangers.’

‘Come on, you know what I mean. You watch everybody.’

‘If you’re asking me if I’ve seen a great pair of tits I can answer the question, but other than a celebrity or two, there’s no one I would call out of the ordinary. Besides, if you’re looking for someone who came here for the purpose of eliminating Vassilis, don’t you think he — or they — would be careful to blend in? They’d be pros, wouldn’t they?’

Andreas stared at him. ‘Whom do you work for?’

Dimitri laughed. ‘ Touche. As I think you asked me when we first met, “Am I that obvious?”’

Andreas did not smile. ‘Yes.’

Dimitri laughed again. ‘Well, I don’t anymore, but I did a long time ago.’

‘For whom?’

‘If it really matters I’m sure you can find out. I wasn’t any sort of James Bond type, with deeply classified records. I just did the low level sort of analyst work, even got a pension. And a lot of people here know my background. I don’t try to hide it. But I don’t talk about it either.’ Dimitri’s last words were said in a serious tone and without a smile.

Andreas nodded. ‘Okay. But just so we both understand each other, if I find out you had anything to do with what happened to the monk, or are holding anything back,’ he leaned forward, ‘the abbot will seem like your best friend compared to the grief I’ll rain down on you.’

Dimitri stared back. ‘Fair enough. But I’m not, so I’m not worried. Here, have an ouzo.’ He poured them each a drink. ‘ Yamas.’

‘ Yamas.’ The three touched glasses.

‘So, who did you work for?’ asked Andreas. No reason not to try again, especially with Dimitri drinking.

‘Like I said, not telling.’

‘If everyone knows and I can find out, why keep it a secret?’

‘It’s one thing for you to know, another for me to tell you.’

‘You’re one confusing son of a bitch.’

‘Thank you. My wife says the same thing.’ Dimitri laughed.

Andreas shook his head. ‘Okay, then give me your best guess on what happened?’

‘My best is a wild-ass one.’

‘Go for it, you’re local, it’s probably better than ours.’

‘The Russians.’

Andreas didn’t respond. He sensed Dimitri was waiting for a reaction to see where to go next. He’d wait him out.

Dimitri picked up his glass and took another drink. ‘Some say the whole Mount Athos scandal was cooked up by the Russians to embarrass the Greek Church. Yeah, I know all about the Ecumenical Patriarch needing a new home thing. How could I not, living in the midst of all this?’ He took another drink. ‘I also know how upset Vassilis was over that mess. We’d talk sometimes.’

Andreas bet they did.

‘He never said precisely what was bothering him but I could tell he thought things weren’t as they seemed. And, from what I know of the Russians, when “things aren’t as they seem,” they’re my best guess for why.’ Dimitri accentuated the point with his fingers.

‘I think your logic has some Siberia-size gaps,’ said Andreas.

‘Well, let me fill them in. In the 1990s, Cyprus emerged as the number-one destination for Russians and other Eastern Europeans looking for a place to launder suitcases full of cash. Banks thrived on that business, and unimaginable fortunes were made. A lot of ruthless Russian and Eastern European mobsters also set up shop there, driving local hoods back into legitimate businesses or into early graves.’ Dimitri reached for a piece of cucumber.

‘During that same period the monastery involved in the big scandal rose to prominence, playing host to England’s Prince Charles, the first U.S. President Bush, Russia’s Putin, and many other big time movers and shakers in a style equal to any worldclass, five-star luxury hotel. Mount Athos has always been a place where the world’s powerful met in private without having to worry about “special permission to visit” red tape. And like any other visitor to Mount Athos, they were free to visit any monastery they chose, but that’s the one they picked — perhaps because its accommodations were better than the others.’

Dimitri took another drink. ‘Some say it’s just a coincidence that during its rise, the abbot of that monastery was from Cyprus. I’m not suggesting he did anything wrong. He was quite gifted at convincing the very rich from around the world — not just those who’d found their way to Cyprus — that charity toward his monastery smoothed the path toward salvation.

‘Some also say it was a tragic coincidence when the patriarch of Africa, purportedly sent by the Ecumenical Patriarch to check that monastery’s books, perished in a helicopter crash on the way to Mount Athos. Others say some of the monastery’s Eastern European contributors were anxious to remain anonymous.’

Andreas shook his head. ‘You sound like an old Greek sitting around a taverna spinning bits of old news, idle gossip, and off-the-wall speculation into international conspiracy theories. There’s no proof whatsoever for what you’re implying.’

Dimitri picked up his glass and winked. ‘That you know of.’

Andreas looked at Kouros, then back at Dimitri.

‘How’s all that tie into Vassilis’ murder?’

‘Don’t know. But the Russians could have used their big money to burrow so deeply and secretly into that monastery’s infrastructure that even its abbot wouldn’t know what was going on. That would have made it relatively simple to embarrass the whole of Mount Athos by involving one of its oldest and most respected monasteries in a financial scandal and greatly increase the chances of relocating the head of the Eastern Orthodox Church to Russia. With all that’s at stake, I wouldn’t bet against the Russians doing whatever it took to pull it off, including murdering someone who might have figured it out.’

‘Vassilis?’ said Kouros.

‘Enjoy the meze, I’m going to get the fish.’ Dimitri stood up and walked away, taking his glass with him.

‘The man sure as hell knows how to make his exit,’ said Kouros.

‘And his point.’ Andreas drummed his fingers on the top of the table and looked west. ‘You know, if any of what he told us is true, or if he’s working for somebody who’s trying to make us think it’s true, we could be in the middle of some very deep shit.’

‘Located in the middle of a very big minefield.’

‘Blindfolded. I think the time has come to find who put us here.’ Andreas reached for his cell phone.

‘How are we going to do that? The minister sure as hell isn’t going to tell us.’

‘He probably doesn’t even know. My guess is this didn’t pass through normal channels.’

‘So, like I said, how do we find out?’

Andreas dialed and waited. ‘Hi, it’s me. We need to meet and talk about how you can help with a big surprise party.’ He hung up. ‘Answering machine.’

Kouros said, ‘I hate the way we have to use cell phones these days. Can’t say a damn thing on them directly. You’d think after that scandal over tapping the prime minister’s phone they’d have figured out some way to make them secure.’

Andreas shook his head. ‘If someone has the right sort of equipment there’s virtually no way of preventing him from listening in on cell phones.’ He picked up a piece of cucumber with his fork. ‘And if something at all close to what Dimitri suggested is true…’ he rolled his fork in the air, ‘I don’t even want to think about it.’

Kouros picked up an olive and popped it into his mouth. ‘Why, worried about mind readers?’

Andreas shrugged. ‘That’s all we’d need, but thanks for reminding me. I better call Lila as soon as we get to the hotel.’ He put the fork in his mouth.

‘At least GADA keeps all our landlines secure,’ said Kouros.

‘Let’s hope so. I’d hate to think of someone listening in on your late-night desperate bachelor calls from home.’

Kouros grinned as he picked up another olive. ‘Jealous. So, what’s next?’

‘Looks like barbouni.’ Andreas pointed to Dimitri coming through the door carrying a platter of fried red mullet and a bottle of white wine.

‘Here’s something to get your minds off of business for a while. All that will wait.’

Not really, thought Andreas.

Dinner with Dimitri was an experience. Between the great food, a bit too much wine, and endless bitching about every politician in Greece, Dimitri managed to sneak in a few subtle inquiries on the investigation. Andreas deflected them all, or so he hoped.

After dinner they stopped by the Biblio. Shop owners on tourist islands think like fishermen: if you want to catch anything, you better be there when they’re running. So when tourists were massing on the island, everything stayed open late. This shop was barely wider than its door, but there was no telling how deep it ran, because every bit of space was jammed with open boxes stacked to the ceiling. No one seemed to be inside, although the door was open.

‘Hello, anyone here?’ said Andreas.

A shuffling sound came from somewhere deep within the mess of boxes, and a tiny person popped through what until then seemed just a crack between the cartons. It was a very old woman dressed all in black, with raging, uncombed gray hair, dark bright eyes, and a pencil behind her ear. She nodded.

‘Hello, I am a policeman investigating the death of Kalogeros Vassilis.’ Andreas took care to address her formally and use the respectful title for a monk. ‘Abbot Christodoulos thought he might have purchased some envelopes here yesterday.’

The old woman nodded yes, and pointed to a carton off to her right, about three feet above her head. He wondered how she reached them.

‘Did he buy anything else?’

She nodded yes.

‘What?’

She nodded toward a display of crosses hanging by lanyards on a pegboard next to the door. ‘One of these?’ He pointed at one of the crosses in the display.

She waved her hand to the left of where Andreas was pointing, and kept waving him to move his finger until it pointed at a silver-colored one on a black lanyard. ‘This one?’ he asked.

She nodded yes. Andreas picked it up. It was square-edged, made of sheet metal, and its longer leg was at most three inches long and one inch wide. A thin, black lanyard passed through a hole at the top of the cross. More of the lanyard material was wrapped tightly around the longer leg just below where it intersected with the shorter one, presumably as a fashion accent for a cheaply made tourist item. It was marked ten euros.

‘Do you know why he bought this one?’

She gestured no.

‘Did he ever buy a cross from you before?’

She gestured no, again.

‘Was he alone?’

She nodded yes.

‘What did he say to you?’

She pointed to the carton of envelopes and crosses, as if that were the extent of the conversation.

‘Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to harm him?’

Another no.

Andreas looked at Kouros.

‘ Yaya,’ Kouros called her by the Greek word for grandmother and smiled at her as if she actually were his yaya. ‘Can you think of anything that might help us find who did this to Kalogeros Vassilis?’

The old woman spread her arms wide, turned her palms up, closed her eyes, and shrugged toward the heavens.

They thanked her and walked back to the car. Kouros drove. He said, ‘That was helpful. Wonder if she can speak?’

‘She probably speaks only Greek and is so used to communicating by gestures with tourists who don’t speak her language that she does it with everyone.’

‘Why do you think he bought that cross?’

Andreas shrugged. ‘Add that to our what-the-hell-is-going-on list.’ He stared out the side window at the lights down below in Skala and on the riggings of ships in the harbor. They all fit together quite nicely against a sky alive with stars. ‘I have to call Lila.’

‘Mavros said the hotel’s about five minutes from here.’

At the final right-hand bend on the mountain road back to Skala they headed down a narrow road marked HOTEL THIS WAY. A few blocks later they stopped in front of a white, three-story stucco building adorned with concrete slab balconies and the brightly lit sign, HOTEL. It was a style reminiscent of forgettable holidays.

‘Too bad he couldn’t find us anything in Chora,’ said Kouros. ‘He said everything’s booked solid for Easter. This place belongs to his cousin.’

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.