An Aegean Prophecy (18 page)

Andreas nodded. ‘Can you tell us how to get there?’

‘Sure. But are you sure you want to go?’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t want to get your
macho
juices running, but these guys are three muscled motherfuckers. I saw them working with their shirts off.’

Andreas shook his head and said, ‘No problem,’ then turned to Kouros. ‘I guess that means I get to wait in the car while you ask the questions, detective.’

* * *

Zacharias was a student of human behavior. He prided himself on reading a mind from a glance. But there was nothing new to learn from this confinement. He’d grasped the essence of these men long ago. They were non-evolved examples of what writers had observed in antiquity: Greeks only buried their differences to unite against an external threat. Every man for himself until called upon to unite for the glory of Greece. They were like men in many parts of the world, and perfect for his purposes.

As for those who despaired because they believed corruption and self-interest made success in Greece a matter of random chance, he agreed with them - but only for those unwilling to manipulate the odds. He had no such reluctance and so for him that made success a matter of certainty, not chance.

If only he could be as certain of what was happening on Patmos.

The road north took them back to Kambos, but instead of going straight at the crossroads they went left. Dimitri’s directions were precise, in a Greek sort of way: keep going until you see really spectacular country, then take a right at the first big road heading downhill; it’s the farm off in the distance, next to the sea, with no tractors, only donkeys. Dimitri was willing to wager his pension that the family running the farm had no idea who the three men were. He said the family rented the land from the church and raised everything by the labor of their own hands. Such hardworking people were rare these days. And they never overcharged, which made them even rarer.

The farm was right where Dimitri promised it would be and just as he’d described: a cluster of white buildings surrounded by tall cedars and pines, above fields of sprouting green running down to a long stone wall that set the farm
off from a sandy beach and the cove beyond. On the far right side of the cove, a short jetty cut into the sea, running parallel and close to the beach; a dozen small, brightly-painted Greek fishing boats were tied bow-to-jetty, stern-to-shore, and tiny sheds for fishing nets and other needs of the trade filled the seaward side of the jetty.

There was no way to approach the house unnoticed. It no doubt was built with that in mind generations ago by wary folk wanting warning of the welcome and not-so-welcome entering their isolated paradise. Besides, the dogs would announce their presence long before they reached the house. To make it tougher, the only practical way to get there was by foot or aboard some four-footed creature.

‘Yianni, stop here.’ They were on a dirt road running down toward the sea, above and as close to the house as you could get from the road. From here they had an unobstructed view of the house, and vice-versa. The shed Dimitri had described was on the other side of the house and not visible from the road. A small coffee hut serving locals and the occasional tourist was farther down the road, blocking vehicle access to the sea below.

‘Looks like the church wants to keep this bit of paradise serene,’ said Kouros.

‘Let’s hope we don’t change things.’

Kouros nodded. ‘If they’re the ones who murdered the monk, they have nothing to lose.’

‘I don’t doubt for a second they’d kill everyone in that family if they had to.’

‘And us,’ added Kouros.

Andreas nodded. ‘Let’s just sit here for a while, and make sure they know we’re here.’

‘Sounds like a plan. Too bad I’m not in uniform, I could get out and parade around.’

‘I think they’ll be able to tell from the car.’ Andreas knew Kouros was teasing; they were driving a marked, blue-and-white Patmos police car.

‘That Patmos captain sure came around. He couldn’t help us enough. Like he found religion or something.’

Andreas nodded. ‘Or something.’ Andreas fluttered his lips. ‘Well, I guess it’s time.’

‘Damn sure hope this works.’

Andreas didn’t respond; he was concentrating, preparing himself. ‘Remember, show no guns. Just make sure you’ve got them ready.’

‘Three of them.’

Andreas looked at Kouros. ‘Okay?’

Kouros nodded. They bumped fists, and stepped out of the car.

They made their way through a break in the tightly packed brush and over a stone wall, then slid down a twelve-foot hillside to a wide path running parallel to the road above. Dogs started barking the moment they started sliding. A smaller rock-and-dirt path began there and ran straight up to the outbuildings next to the house. It was lined by three-foot-high stone walls and unevenly spaced cedars.

The two cops walked very slowly, as if strolling down a country lane. Chickens scurried along the path toward the buildings.

‘Do you think they saw us?’ Kouros’ voice was tight.

‘I sure as hell hope so.’ Andreas resisted the temptation to pat where he’d hidden two of his semiautomatics. It would be a literal dead giveaway to anyone watching. And he knew, if they were the killers, they were watching. They had to be. The path ended just beyond a small barn where a narrower path started off to the left. The new path ran between the house on the left and a group of small sheds and coops on the right before winding down out of sight toward the jetty side of the beach.

‘Where the hell are they?’ whispered Kouros.

‘Where the hell is anyone?’ whispered Andreas. He paused then yelled, ‘
Yiasas
. Hello. Anyone here?’ They’d not seen a human since stopping the car. No way he wanted to surprise them.

No answer.

Andreas nodded toward the sheds on the right. Kouros jumped the fence and stepped inside the first one. He stuck his head out and gestured ‘nothing.’ He checked the other two, each with the same result.

Andreas whispered, ‘My turn, cover me.’ Andreas drew his gun and pointed at the door to the house. He peered in the window next to it, gave a glance and a nod back at Kouros, pressed himself against the wall between the window and the door, leaned over, and pounded five times on the door. ‘Police! Open up!’ No answer. He banged away again. ‘Police! Open up!’ Still no answer.

He looked at Kouros, nodded toward the door handle, and turned it. It was unlocked. He threw open the door, sending it slamming into a table next to it, and pots crashing onto the stone floor. No one inside could have missed that
arrival. Andreas wanted it that way. He shouted, ‘Anyone here?’ No answer.

Andreas went in with Kouros right behind him, and together they scanned the downstairs rooms. Either his plan was in play or it wasn’t. If not, and the bad guys were inside, things were likely to get very hot very quickly.

Not a soul was in any room. Andreas pointed upstairs. He put his foot on the first step. There was the sound of something falling on the floor above them. His heart skipped a beat. Fear. Good, he thought, it made him focus. Only idiots and fools weren’t afraid at times like this.

Kouros’ face was grim. They crept up the stairs on oppos ite sides, at angles widening their fields of vision with every step, hoping to get a glimpse of anyone who might be at the top waiting for them. They took their time, prepared to fire instantly. The men they were hunting were professionals, not likely to spook. This was a time of cautious moves, and prayer.

They were almost at the top when a new sound came from the same place. It was like muted stomping. Andreas put a hand on Kouros’ chest to warn him. It could be a trap - like whistling when the deer you’re stalking starts to run, distracting the creature just long enough to take your shot. Andreas opened and closed his left fist three times, then went low and fast around one corner at the top of the stairs, gun barrel first, as Kouros did the same on the other side. Again, no one.

Andreas pointed to a closed door across and to the right of the stairs. The sound was coming from in there. Andreas stood on the right side of the door, his left hand on the
doorknob, his right on his gun. Kouros stood on the other side, nodded, and Andreas flung open the door.

A bound and gagged young girl lay on the floor, next to a bed, kicking away at the floor with her bare feet. Four middle-aged women and one old man were lying face up on the bed, bound and stacked like strapped-together firewood at a city market. Andreas and Kouros did a quick search of the room and every closet. There was no one else in the room. Andreas whispered to Kouros to keep an eye on the door and went to the girl on the floor. She wouldn’t stop kicking. She looked to be no more than eight and scared to death. Andreas put his finger to his lips, and pulled his ID out from beneath his shirt. ‘Shhh, it’s okay, my child, we’re police, you’re safe now.’

She kept shaking. Andreas said, ‘I’m going to take the gag off, but it will hurt a bit. I’m sorry.’ She was haphazardly wrapped in duct tape of the sort every farmer kept handy for quick repairs.

As soon as he freed her mouth the girl started talking. ‘They ran into the house, they made us come up here. They said they’d kill us if we screamed.’ She seemed too frightened to cry.

‘Is there anyone else in the house?’ Andreas asked.

‘No, the rest of the family is out on the island. Easter is very busy for us.’

Andreas smiled at how precise she was.

‘It’s just us.’

The five tied to the bed were wide-eyed and nodding at every word the girl said.

‘Where are the men who did this to you?’

‘There were three of them. Big men. I heard them running out the door, toward the sea.’

‘How long ago did they leave?’

‘I don’t know.’ She shook her head. ‘But they brought us here and tied us up right after the police car stopped on the road. I was downstairs with my grandfather watching the car come down the road.’

Andreas looked at Kouros. ‘I guess it worked,’ then gestured for him to untie the others. He asked the girl, ‘How did you free yourself?’

She gripped his hand and let out a deep breath. ‘I’m smaller than the others, and wiggled my way out when I heard you shouting.’

Andreas patted her on the head. ‘Smart girl.’

The first one untied was the grandfather. ‘They took my boat. They took my boat.’

Andreas raised his hand. ‘Easy, don’t worry about it.’

‘What do you mean don’t worry about it? I heard them say they were taking my boat. You’re the police. Go stop them. It’s your job. Do something!’

The first thing that came to mind was to tell Kouros to retape his mouth, but Andreas knew the old man was covering up fear and frustration with indignation. A man doesn’t like being helpless when his family is threatened, no matter how old and frail he may be. Besides, thanking cops for just having freed your family was not as Greek as complaining about what they hadn’t done.

‘Don’t worry,
Papou
.’ Andreas helped the old man off the bed and over to one of the two windows overlooking the
cove. It was a peaceful late afternoon sea, glorious for a voyage. You could see the old man’s
caique
, plodding out to sea. The perfect escape scenario for professionals wanting an exit strategy to another island or a faster boat elsewhere. Or so Andreas had hoped.

‘They’re getting away. Do something.’

‘Relax and enjoy.’ He patted the old man. The women crowded up to the other window. Kouros stood next to Andreas. Andreas picked up the girl so she could see.

The grandfather’s boat was just about to where the cove opened into the sea when the Greek Coast Guard cutter came into view, accompanied by two swift-moving Zodiacs equipped with mounted machine guns. The
caique
made a desperate turn to the right, headed directly toward the shore, but within seconds one of the Zodiacs cut it off, while the other closed in from behind to the sound of a bullhorn echoing off the water.

‘What are they saying?’ said the girl.

Andreas patted the grandfather on the back and winked at Kouros. ‘Probably something like, “It’s not nice to steal
Papou’s
boat.”’

Andreas and Kouros left the farmhouse carrying shopping bags full of cheese, eggs, sausages, preserves, vegetables, and homemade wine. The women insisted. The grandfather wouldn’t stop shaking Andreas’ hand and thanking him for saving his boat.