An Aegean Prophecy (8 page)

‘Over here.’ The voice came from the near taverna. It was about fifty yards down the beach.

‘Wouldn’t it have been easier to come by the hotel?’ said Andreas, walking with Kouros toward the voice.

‘You know me, never miss a chance for the dramatic.’

Andreas hugged the man, and they kissed each other on both cheeks. Kouros and the man did the same.

‘How’s Lila?’

Andreas smiled as he thought about his dream last night and her message. ‘Due any day now.’

‘Can’t wait.’

‘She’d probably tell you before me if it were up to her.’

‘If you’re not back home when the baby’s born she might
never tell you.’ He smacked Andreas on the shoulder. ‘So, why has the chief of special crimes, based in Athens, dragged the chief homicide investigator for the Cycladic Islands onto a Dodecanese island outside my jurisdiction?’

Tassos Stamatos was well past retirement age, but no one in the ministry dared tell him. He knew where every body was buried, who buried them, and how to exhume any he might need to inflict the greatest possible harm on anyone who crossed him. It was called lifetime job security. ‘I’m guessing it has to do with the murdered monk.’

Andreas nodded yes. ‘The only thing I’m sure of is this wasn’t a mugging gone wrong. Whoever did it meant to kill him. And if even a little of what we’ve heard is true …’ He rolled his right hand off into the air.

‘Sounds like your kind of case.’ Tassos smiled. ‘I figured as much when you didn’t want to talk on a cell phone. That’s why I decided not to chance a landline either.’

‘How did you find me?’ Andreas put up his hand to stop him from answering. ‘Maggie.’

Tassos grinned. ‘You’re the one who brought us back together.’

That was pure coincidence. Andreas had known nothing about their romantic past when he played inadvertent match-maker. He just was happy for them both: Tassos, the longtime widower, and Maggie, GADA’s mother superior. Andreas shook his head and waved for him to continue.

‘If anyone followed you we’d see them on the road.’ He looked up the hill. ‘So far, no unexpected visitors. And anyone here at this hour, besides Niko,’ he gestured toward an old man in a Greek fisherman’s cap at the far end of
the taverna, ‘is unexpected. This place doesn’t open until noon. So, tell me what’s going on.’

It took about twenty minutes to fill him in on the facts as they knew them, and another five to spell out Dimitri’s theory on Russians as probable bad guys.

Tassos just listened, and when Andreas finished he sat quietly for another minute or so. ‘I hate to say it, but Dimitri could be right. And if he is …’ Tassos paused and shook his head. ‘Greeks and Russians are getting along pretty well these days, but killing our monks as part of some national plan to bring the Ecumenical Patriarch to Russia …’ He didn’t bother to finish, just shook his head again. ‘Greece will go nuts. Make that the whole world will go nuts!’

‘Welcome to my life,’ said Andreas. ‘Any idea on where to go from here?’

‘Seems like something for the big boys.’

‘CIA?’

‘Them, or MI6, or a few Middle East shops. They’re the ones most likely, outside of Russia, to know if there’s some basis for Russians possibly being involved. The Cold War never ended as far as they’re concerned. They all keep an eye on each other, like jungle cats stalking the same prey. As for knowing for certain,’ Tassos shrugged. ‘Without a major leak or screw-up by someone directly involved, I doubt anyone will ever know. Killing monks isn’t the sort of operation someone’s likely to brag about, even to clandestine ops buddies.’

Andreas drummed his fingers on the table. ‘If we bring this to one of the big agencies, no telling how they’ll run with it.’

‘Or spin it,’ said Kouros.

Tassos nodded. ‘That’s for sure. Once this gets out it won’t be under your control. The big boys will play it to fit their agendas, which I guarantee you are a lot different from finding who killed an old monk on some tiny Greek island.’

‘I know, that’s why I don’t want to go that way. At least not yet. So far, all we know for certain is first, there’s a monster of a damn mess out there, and second, someone went out of his way to put me in the middle of it. The only chance I see at getting an angle on what’s going on is if I can find that “someone.”’ Andreas looked at Tassos. ‘That’s why I need your help, old friend. Find out who got me into this.’

Tassos smiled. ‘Would you like me to arrange for world peace while I’m at it?’

Andreas laughed. It had taken time, but Andreas had come around to accepting the value of Tassos’ unorthodox police methods and backchannel contacts, as different as they were from his own. ‘You’re the only one I know who actually might be able to do that, too. So, what do you say?’

‘Can’t think of a better thing to do at this point in my life than blindly jump into the middle of a potential religious war with Russia.’

Andreas smiled and touched Tassos arm. ‘Thanks. Once again, I owe you. Big time.’

Tassos grinned. ‘Have you picked out a name for the baby yet?’

Andreas smiled. ‘If a boy, after my father. If a girl, Lila’s mother.’

Tassos nodded. ‘Damn well better. Your dad was the best
cop I ever knew.’ Tassos stood up and patted Andreas on the back. ‘Come on, I’ll give you a ride back.’

Andreas stood. ‘Are you sure you want to be seen with us?’

Tassos put his arm around Andreas’ waist and steered him toward the car. ‘My friend, if the Russians are behind this operation they’ve been watching us by satellite all morning, and if it’s somebody else …’ he shook his free hand in the air. ‘Let’s let them know that now they’ve got three of us to deal with.’

Andreas smiled. ‘I feel so much safer now.’

Tassos took his arm from around Andreas’ waist and smacked him on the back of the head.

On the drive back, Andreas called the abbot to set up interviews with the monks they’d missed the day before.

The abbot was apologetic. ‘I’m sorry Chief Kaldis, but I never had the chance to tell them you wanted to speak with them. I only learned this morning that they’d taken a late boat Sunday night in order to be back in their monasteries in time for Easter observances.’

Andreas let out a deep breath.

‘I’ll e-mail you their names and how to get in touch with them as soon I get that information. I’ll also send you copies of whatever computer backup we find for Vassilis’ work, but so far our network administrator has found nothing for him newer than two months ago. Sorry.’

‘Thanks, just get everything to me right away. Okay?’

‘Certainly. Goodbye.’

Andreas looked at the bright side: there was nothing left for him to do on Patmos, at least for the moment. He
turned to Yianni in the back seat. ‘Looks like we get to go home.’ Then he looked over at Tassos. ‘Would you like us to give you a lift to Syros? The extra weight is no problem for the helicopter, it’s a big one.’ He smiled.

Tassos gave him the middle finger gesture. ‘Thanks but no thanks. I’ll drop you at the heliport. It wouldn’t be fair to my friend who sailed though the night to get me here by dawn if I left him to make the four-hour return trip home alone.’

For most men, twenty minutes or so in the air versus four-plus hours on a choppy sea back to the island capital of the Cyclades was a no-brainer choice. That, Andreas thought, was another reason Tassos had so many well-connected friends willing to do so much for him: he never took them for granted. Andreas hoped somewhere out there one of those friends had an answer. Any answer.

Tassos dropped them off at the heliport and drove down toward the harbor. He knew this wasn’t a simple murder and that Andreas knew it, too. There was something almost spooky about this one. And a lot of toes to step on: Greek, Russian, and God knows what else. He didn’t mind that so much; he just wished there were a head he could bust or an arm he could twist to get a lead, some place to start. He let out a breath. It would come to him, it always did. God willing.

‘Surprise, I’m back. See, I kept my promise.’

Lila chuckled into the phone. ‘I know. Tassos called. He said he’d made sure to ship you home.’

‘He’s such a bastard.’ Andreas laughed.

‘So, when do I get to see you?’

Andreas looked at his watch. ‘We’re on the way to the office—’

‘So, sometime before midnight?’

‘No, honest, I should be home this afternoon.’ He looked at his watch. It wasn’t even noon.

Lila laughed. ‘Yes, I’m sure. Don’t worry, do what you have to do. Just knowing you’re nearby is all the comfort I need. Kisses.’

Andreas hung up and stared out the window, wondering what he’d done to deserve her. And how much longer could she stand a life with him. He didn’t want to think about that.

Fifteen minutes later he was back at GADA. Athens was a place more than five million called home, and where few ever seemed to be asleep at the same time. Some never seemed to sleep at all. GADA was in the heart of the action, across the street from the stadium of one of Greece’s two most popular soccer teams, down the block from Greece’s Supreme Court, and next to a major hospital.

No sooner did Andreas sit behind his desk than Maggie came bouncing through his office door. She dropped an envelope on the desk. ‘So, what did he have to say?’

‘What did who have to say?’

‘Tassos.’

‘Of course, how could I have thought this was about police business?’

‘It is about police business, I don’t need to ask you what he has to say about other things.’ Maggie smiled. ‘I want
to know if he can help you find the guy you’re looking for.’

Andreas stared at her. ‘Is there anything you don’t know?’

‘When he called to find out where you were, I knew it had to be serious if he wouldn’t talk to you over the phone, and since we both know what he’s good at,’ she seemed to swoon at a different thought, ‘I figured you were looking for someone.’

Andreas shook his head. ‘You’d have made a terrific cop.’

‘Too limiting.’ She turned and left.

He watched her bounce out the door; five-feet, three-inches of red-topped, endless energy.

Andreas opened the envelope. It contained the photographs he’d given Kouros of the crime scene. He took them out and spread them on his desk. There were dozens. What a tragedy. Time to focus: on each photograph, on each section of each photograph, on everything in context with all else. Looking, studying, hoping to find a clue, anything that might help. But all he kept seeing was the same thing: a sad-looking, silver-haired monk, lying dead on a street, clutching a cross. What a terrible end for such a wonderful life, for any life.

He stood up and walked over to the window. What was going through that monk’s mind when faced with the end of his life? To accept his death … to fight … to pass along a message? There were no signs of a fight or a message, and he was clutching his cross. His choice seemed clear. Acceptance.

Andreas had reached a dead end. Now it was up to Tassos.

Andreas was in the middle of a dozen things on a half dozen different cases when Maggie buzzed him. ‘It’s
him
.’

He didn’t have to ask whom she meant; he just picked up the phone. ‘Are you about to make me as happy as you’re making my secretary?’

‘I hope so - but differently.’

‘Where are you?’ Andreas looked at his watch. It wasn’t even two. ‘You can’t be back on Syros.’

‘No, we stopped for lunch on Ikaria.’

‘Ikaria?’ It was a northern Aegean island, a little less than halfway between Patmos and Syros. ‘Why Ikaria?’

‘I have a lot of friends here from the old days.’

Andreas knew that for Tassos the ‘old days’ meant Greece’s military dictatorship years, between 1967 and 1974, and his time spent as a rookie cop in an island prison guarding the junta’s political enemies. He’d taken great
pains to befriend all the politicians under his care as a hedge against Greece’s return to democracy. That made him great friends among both outright fascists and hardcore communists. No doubt the ones on Ikaria fell into the latter category. It was a bastion for communists long ago forced to relocate there from other parts of Greece.

‘I have what you want. I’m on a landline, do you want to chance it?’