Jeffrey Siger - An Aegean Prophecy

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?’

‘What the hell, if every phone line in this country’s tapped, we’re wasting our time trying to save it anyway. Shoot.’

‘It was a lot easier than I thought. The person who called the minister of public order to get you assigned to the case didn’t try to hide who he was. Everyone in the office knew.’

‘Why don’t I think I’m going to like what’s coming.’

‘Oh, it’s not as bad as you think.’ Then Tassos told him the name.

‘Great, a former prime minister. How’s that not bad news? Who’s possibly going to make him talk? He’s untouchable, another dead end.’

‘Are you finished?’

Andreas slammed his hand on the desk.

‘As I was saying, it was easier than I thought. You see, the person who got him to make the call also must have figured that a former prime minister was untouchable, that no one possibly could force him into revealing a confidence, and so he didn’t bother to use an intermediary when asking for the favor. What he didn’t know was that the prime minister owed a few favors of his own.’

‘I could kiss you.’

‘Don’t pucker up quite yet. The prime minister has, as he admits, “a weakness for contraband antiquities,” and that’s had me bailing him out of more than one politically sensitive nightmare. But he’s of the kind that doesn’t like being reminded of favors owed. When I told him what I wanted, he raged on about ‘How dare I ask him to betray his word,’ ‘Who did I think I was asking him to violate a confidence,’ etcetera, and he threatened to hang up.’ Tassos paused. ‘But he didn’t.’

Andreas could almost see a grin through the phone.

‘We reached a compromise. He said he couldn’t give me the name because there’d be no way for him to deny he was the source. Instead, he gave me a phone number. Said it’s for the man who wanted you assigned to the case. Our distinguished former prime minister’s exact words were, “Take this number and lose mine.”’

‘The next sound you hear will be a kiss-’

‘Hate to wreck your style, but I’ve a boat to catch. I checked out the number, it’s in Thessaloniki.’ Thessaloniki was Greece’s second largest city, located in northeast Greece. Tassos quickly read off the number, then repeated it. ‘Bye-bye.’

‘Thanks, kiss, kiss.’ Andreas stared at the number, then pressed the intercom. ‘Maggie, come in here, please.’

She was in before he hung up.

‘I need you to find out what you can about this number.’ Andreas held out a piece of paper.

She didn’t take it. ‘It’s a Thessaloniki number, no further information.’

He stared at her. ‘You ran it for him, didn’t you?’

Maggie shrugged. ‘He was on a boat in the middle of the Aegean, and we knew you’d want to know. What’s the problem?’

Andreas put the paper down. ‘No problem. Just wondering why I’m always the last to know what’s going on in my own office.’

‘You’re too busy handling the big things.’ She smiled. ‘Besides, we want to try to get you home in time for dinner, don’t we?’ She turned and left.

Andreas stared at the door. Now the women in his life were teaming up on him. He stood no chance.

He shut his eyes and sat quietly for several minutes, then picked up the phone and dialed. It rang six times and he was about to ‘Hello.’ It was a formal, resonant, male voice.

Andreas swallowed. ‘It is I.’

‘And whom would that be?’

‘The chosen one.’

‘I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, or how you got this number.’

‘You should.’

‘Why?’

‘You chose me.’

There was a pause. ‘I heard you were good. Chief Inspector Kaldis, I presume.’

Andreas thought to reach out for the man’s name, but decided it better to act as if he already knew his identity. ‘So, where do you want to meet?’

‘Why should I meet you?’

‘Oh, you’re definitely going to meet me. I’m just giving you the choice of having me show up on your doorstep with a brass band, or doing it less conspicuously at a location of your choosing.’ Andreas held his breath. If the man hung up, he was nowhere.

‘Give me a minute.’

It seemed like an hour.

‘How’s seven tonight at the Sofitel?’

‘At Venizelos Airport?’

‘Yes, call this number when you get there.’

‘See you then.’

‘Looking forward to it. Goodbye.’ The line went dead.

Andreas didn’t hang up. He dialed Lila’s number. So much for making it home this afternoon. He still might make it for dinner, if it wasn’t an early one.

Andreas and Kouros were at the hotel by four. A team sat in a van directly across from the hotel entrance with instructions to photograph everyone going in and out, as well as anyone in its outdoor cafe adjacent to the entrance. The hotel’s front door was fifty yards from the main terminal and the place had a virtual monopoly on anyone needing a room at Athens’ international airport. It also was convenient for travelers looking for a place to meet with locals. Many simply sat at the cafe, did their business, and left without ever going inside the hotel. Andreas guessed this guy would want privacy and get a room for their meeting. A male-female team was instructed to hang out in the lobby, photographing everyone getting off the elevators, just in case he’d already checked in.

At precisely seven Andreas strode into the lobby and dialed the number.

‘Hello.’

‘I’m here.’

‘You need a room key to get the elevator to stop at my floor. I’ll send someone down to meet you.’

‘What does the “someone” look like?’

The man laughed. ‘I’m sure you’ll figure it out.’

Andreas wondered if he should reconsider his decision to meet without backup. He thought to say something to his team in the lobby but decided against it; someone might be watching him now that he’d made that call. He walked to the elevators. The only thing waiting for him was a massive reproduction of a classic, white marble Cycladic statue of a female form, arms crossed below the chest. It stood against the far wall at the end of the elevator bank. He was staring at it when an elevator door next to him opened.

A couple in jeans, tee-shirts, sneakers, and matching baseball caps stepped out, speaking English and clutching a map. Nope, not them. Another elevator door opened. This one was at the far end, next to the statue.

A man stepped out and turned to face Andreas. The statue vanished. The sun would have disappeared behind this guy. He was a giant, but not just any giant, a graying blond one in full Eastern Orthodox cleric dress: hat, cross, and all. Backup no longer seemed relevant. They’d need a howitzer to stop this guy. Andreas stepped inside the open door and the cleric followed. He put a room key into the slot by the floor buttons and pressed six.