The Lost Throne (40 page)

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

He laughed again. “It’s not so bad when you’re inside. You get used to it pretty quick.”

“You’ve been inside?” Dial asked, surprised.

“That’s how I discovered Ouranoúpoli. I visited Mount Athos and liked it so much that I swing by every few years.”

“They let you do that?”

Clive nodded. “If your paperwork is in order.”

“Really? You don’t have to be a monk?”

“Not at all. In fact, you’d be surprised how many celebrities visit Mount Athos.”

“Such as?”

“Prince Charles from England. He spends a lot of time at Vatopedi, a monastery that resembles an Italian Renaissance village on the north-eastern part of the peninsula. It has many famous relics, including remnants of the True Cross.”

Dial rubbed his chin in thought. “You seem to know a lot about the place.”

“Not as much as the guest-masters, but more than most. Sometimes when I’m lonely, I give boat tours. It’s a great way to meet people. Especially women.”

Dial laughed. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“I don’t mean picking them up. I mean
meeting
them. They aren’t permitted on shore, so I take them around the peninsula and show them all the monasteries.”

“Hold up. Women
aren’t
allowed on Mount Athos?”

Clive shook his head. “No women at all. Not even female animals.”

“Damn. That’s kind of strict.”

“Considering who owns the place, it’s also pretty ironic.”

“What do you mean? Who owns the place?”

“According to legend, the Virgin Mary was sailing to Cyprus to visit Lazarus when her ship was blown off course. They dropped anchor close to the present-day monastery of Iviron, and Mary was instantly taken by the beauty of the mountain and asked her Son to make it her own. A voice from above said,
‘This is your garden, a haven for those who wish to be saved.’
Or words to that effect. From that day forward, no women have been allowed on Mount Athos.”

Dial smiled. “This is Mary’s garden, and women aren’t allowed to visit. That’s priceless.”

“Like I said, it’s pretty ironic.”

Dial was about to ask Clive another question when Andropoulos came into view. He had circled the tower and was now walking toward them from the opposite direction.

“Sorry, sir. No sign of the governor.”

Clive glanced at Dial. “Your meeting was with the governor of Mount Athos?”

“It was. But apparently I missed him—by several hours.”

“Either that, or you’re thirteen days early.”

Dial looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“The monks also use the old Julian calendar instead of the Grego rian calendar. So they’re thirteen days behind the rest of us.”

Dial shook his head. “Someone in town said a trip to Mount Athos was like going back in time. I guess they meant that literally.”

“Literally and figuratively,” Clive assured him. “Although in recent years there have been improvements to many of the monasteries. Some of them even have electricity.”

Andropoulos laughed. Metéora had recently gone through similar renovations, moving them out of the nineteenth and into the early twentieth century. Still a century behind, but much better than it used to be.

Clive extended his hand. “Hi, my name is Clive.”

“Sorry,” Dial said as Andropoulos shook Clive’s hand. “This is my assistant, Marcus.”

“Your assistant? What kind of business are you in?”

Dial answered. “I work for Interpol. He works for me.”

“Interpol? How fascinating! And you’re here to meet with the governor? Is there something dangerous going on that I should know about?”

“No, nothing like that. I’m just trying to get access to Mount Athos for a routine investigation.”

Clive groaned. “Well, you’re in trouble now. I’ve met the governor on a few occasions, and he isn’t exactly a cordial fellow. My guess is that you’ve made an enemy for life.”

“Great. Just great.”

“Of course, there are other ways to get to the peninsula.”

“Such as?”

“Me.”

“You?” Dial asked.

Clive nodded. “I have no influence with the guards, but if I pull up to the main dock and you flash your badge, you might be able to talk your way onto the property.” He paused. “You do have a badge, don’t you?”

Both Dial and Andropoulos flashed their credentials.

He smiled and continued. “At the very least, the guards have a special phone that connects with the administrative offices in Karyes. Anytime there’s a problem with a visitor’s permit, the guards contact their bosses for clarification. So even if they don’t let you through, perhaps you can speak to someone who can help you with your investigation.”

B
oth Payne and Allison stared at Jones, trying to determine if he was serious. They realized he was when he made them feel the object for themselves.

Allison went first. She noticed the same crinkling as Jones. “It feels like paper.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said with a grin.

Payne rolled his eyes as he took his turn. “I’m kind of hoping you’re wrong. Otherwise you’re going to be a bigger pain in the ass than normal.”

“I don’t know about bigger. But I’ll definitely be
richer
.”

Payne smiled. “Don’t buy a mansion just yet. We have to see what it is first.”

“And how are we going to do that?” Allison wondered.

Jones made a cutting motion with his two fingers. “Snip, snip.”

“Wait. You’re going to cut the coat?”

He nodded. “You’re damn right I’m going to cut the coat. But just the lining. It’s not like I’m going to take off a whole sleeve.”

“Come on, guys. There has to be a better way.”

Jones turned toward Jarkko, who was steering the boat at the front. “Hey, Jarkko! Do you have any X-ray gear on here?”

Jarkko stared at him. “You mean X-rated movies?”

“Not X-rated,” he shouted. “X-ray.”

“X-ray? What is that? Is that more sexy than X-rated?”

“Forget it. Don’t worry about it.”

Jarkko threw his arms up in frustration. “How will Jarkko learn if you not explain!”

“Sorry,” Jones apologized to Allison. “No X-rays on board. We’re gonna have to cut it.”

She sighed. “Fine! Cut the lining. But promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Of course I’ll be careful. I don’t want to cut the paper.”

“I meant with the coat!”

Jones glanced at Payne and grinned. “Man, I love revving her up. It’s so easy.”

Payne smiled as he patted Jones on the arm. “Before you start, let me tell Jarkko to stop the engine. The smoother the ride, the better.”

“Good idea.”

Jarkko cut the motor and the boat slowed to an easy crawl. Because of a lack of storms in the area, the winds were calmer than normal and so were the waves. Allison spread the garment bag across the bench, and Jones laid the coat on top. Their goal was to do as little damage as possible, whether that was from grime or the tip of his knife.

The first cut was along the edge of the seam. A tiny ripping sound was heard, followed by a loud groan from Allison. Jones made her turn around before he continued. The process was easier than he had expected. After getting through the first layer of lining, he noticed a small compartment had been stitched into the coat.

Jones stuck his fingers inside and felt an object. “There’s something in here.”

“What is it?” she wondered.

“I don’t know. I can’t get it out. My hands are too big.”

“Here,” she said. “Let me try. Or you might rip it.”

After they switched spots, she stuck her slender fingers inside the secret pocket. With more wiggle room than Jones, she was able to finesse the object out, carefully sliding it through the gap in the lining until she held it in her hands.

It was an old piece of paper, folded and yellowed with age.

“What does it say?” Jones asked.

“I don’t know,” she said excitedly. “Someone move the coat.”

At this point Payne was tempted to chuck it overboard; he was much more concerned with the paper than the coat. Instead, he carefully hung it on its original hanger while Allison laid the document on top of the garment bag. Then, using the tip of her fingernail, she carefully unfolded it, trying not to smudge the writing.

“It feels so brittle. I don’t want to turn it too quickly or it might tear.”

Jones glanced over her shoulder. “I swear to God, if Ivan dry-cleaned this coat, I’m going to kill the bastard.”

“It’s not that,” she assured him as she kept unfolding the paper. “It’s in pretty good shape for its age. I just don’t want to take any chances.”

Finally, after several seconds, the document was fully revealed. She held it flat with the tips of her fingers, making sure that a gust of wind didn’t blow it overboard. Despite its age, the document was still legible, penned by a steady hand. It was written in Greek, a language that none of them could speak, yet all of them knew what they were staring at.

“Holy shit,” Jones mumbled. “It’s a fucking map.”

The comment made Allison grin. “The correct term is
treasure map,
but—”

“Jon,” Jones blurted, “it’s a fucking
treasure
map.”

Payne laughed at his friend’s joy. “I see that, but what does it say?”

“I don’t know! I can’t read Greek, but I recognize the most important letter of all.”

Payne glanced down at the map. A mountain was drawn in the middle of a large landmass that was surrounded by water. Bays and inlets were labeled with Greek words, as were various trails up the mountain. Payne stared at the words, trying to figure out what letter Jones had been referring to, but he had no idea. “Which letter is most important?”

Jones plopped his finger on the map about halfway up the mountain.

A single location had been labeled with the Greek letter chi.

A letter that looks exactly like a capital X.

“Chi marks the spot!”

A
fter their initial burst of enthusiasm, they realized they had no idea where this mountain was located—or if it still existed. Just because it was labeled in Greek didn’t mean that it was
in
Greece. Schliemann had traveled all over the globe, so it could’ve been anywhere. And since they were floating in the middle of the Gulf of Finland, they weren’t able to access the Internet on Allison’s computer. Research would have to wait until they reached the mainland.

They debated a variety of things for the next ten minutes. Allison and Jones did most of the talking, since they were most familiar with Greek history. Payne was ready to make a point when he felt a large hand on his shoulder. It was Jarkko. He was curious about their argument.

“Sorry to disturb. But can you not fight while boat is moving?”

Payne nodded. “You’re absolutely right. We’re wasting valuable time.”

“What is that?” he asked as he pointed to the map in Allison’s hand. “You are going to Greece and not invite Jarkko?”

Jones glanced at him, surprised. “Wait. You know this place?”

“Of course! Remember, Jarkko keeps yacht in Greece. Jarkko knows entire Aegean.”

“Hold up. You
actually
know where this is?”

“What, you no understand Jarkko? Jarkko knows this place. Jarkko
hates
this place.”

Jones asked, “You hate it?”

“Of course Jarkko hates. No women. No drink. No fun. Just monks and guns.”

“What in the hell are you talking about?”

Jarkko looked at Payne. “Is Jarkko slurring? It is too early to slur. Maybe Jon should drive?”

Payne signaled Jones to shut up. Then he asked a question of his own. “What’s the name of the mountain?”

“That is Mount Athos. It is home to Orthodox monks. Holy land to Greeks.”

“Have you been there?”

“One day Jarkko run out of supplies. Jarkko tried to dock near mountain but guards with guns would not allow. Land is holy. Permission must be granted by fat monk in charge.”

Payne turned his attention to Allison. “Have you ever heard of this place?”

She nodded. “I’ve heard of it. But I don’t know much about it. It’s in northern Greece, far away from Athens. As far as I know, it’s filled with monasteries and nothing else.”

“How far from Constantinople?”

She gave it some thought. “Not far at all. Why?”

“Close enough to move a statue to?”

“It’s
much
closer than Olympia. So the answer is definitely yes.”

Payne looked at Jones. “What do you think?”

“What do I think? I think there has to be a reason that armed guards are protecting a bunch of monks in the middle of nowhere.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

Jarkko raised his hand. “May Jarkko ask question?”

“Go on,” Payne answered.

“Will you need guide to Mount Athos?”

Payne smiled. “Why? Are you offering?”

“Yes, if you are paying. Are you paying?”

He nodded. “Yes, I’d be paying.”

“Then Jarkko is offering! When you want to leave?”

“As soon as possible.”

Jarkko grinned. “We can leave soon. But first, we must drink!”

B
efore boarding Clive’s boat, Dial called Henri Toulon at Interpol for an update on the Spartan situation and also to let him know about his missed meeting with the governor.

“Nick,” Toulon said, “I was just about to call you. We have some news on George Pappas. His truck was found in Leonidi, approximately fifty kilometers away from Spárti.”

“His truck was
found
? Was he inside?”

“No. It was abandoned next to a wooden pier.”

Dial grimaced. “What’s a pier doing in the middle of the mountains?”

“No, no, no. Leonidi is
not
in the mountains. It is a small fishing village. His truck was found next to the sea.”

Dial pictured a map of Greece in his head. The Taygetos Mountains were west of Spárti, located in the middle of the Peloponnese. Meanwhile, the Aegean Sea was to the east, completely in the opposite direction. “Why in the world was he over there?”

Toulon answered. “We do not know that he was.”

“Wait. You think his truck was stolen?”