Jeffrey Siger - An Aegean Prophecy

The abbot glared in a way Andreas figured he reserved for withering a most out-of-favor monk. Andreas looked at his watch, crossed his legs, and smiled.

The abbot blinked and let out a breath. ‘Okay, so you learned they couldn’t have returned home in time to celebrate Easter Week within their monasteries.’

‘That’s monastery. They all came from the same one,’ said Andreas.

The abbot bristled. ‘They are men who have found salvation and repentance in God and whatever they may have done in the past has nothing to do with Vassilis.’

Andreas shook his head. ‘Interesting, a monk who lived in your monastery for forty years gets his throat cut and you take it upon yourself to protect strangers who might be able to help us find his killer. I admire your sense of loyalty.’ Andreas watched the abbot struggle to retain control.

‘The three, they are from the Balkan conflict. They came to Mount Athos and earned the right to a new life. That is nothing new. For centuries Byzantine and Serbian rulers have sought and received refuge there. But police may not agree, and I saw no reason to involve them in this.’

‘Or perhaps embarrass whoever gave them sanctuary?’

‘That is none of your business.’

The abbot’s back was up and he seemed ready for a fight. Andreas stared straight into his eyes. ‘I think you’re way out of line on this, and in way over your head. I don’t know what you’re thinking or who you’re afraid of, but one thing is for sure, you’re going to end up on the wrong side of things if you don’t tell me what you know, and I mean tell me now.’ It was a wing and a prayer bluff, but one aimed at most politicians’ knee-jerk propensity for protecting self-interest over all else.

The abbot’s face looked as if he’d missed that possibility, and for the first time he sounded unsure. ‘I cannot tell you a name, but I’m not refusing out of fear. It would betray a deep confidence of a true friend. I never will reveal his name. He put those three men onto the true path of the Lord, and I trust his judgment completely. I’m sure Vassilis would have agreed.’

‘Did Vassilis know him, whoever “he” may be?’

‘Vassilis knew of him and of my regard for him, but we never talked about him.’ He paused. ‘Although I think he knew Vassilis.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because the three you seek sought out Vassilis. I assume to convey his regards.’

Andreas struggled to hold back what he was dying to say.

‘He is a spiritual gift to our life. I would never betray him,’ said the abbot.

Andreas bit his tongue. ‘I admire loyalty, but blind loyalty can lead you into the abyss. Now, where are the three men?’

The abbot stared out the window. ‘Honestly, I have no idea. All I know is they are gone from here.’

‘From Patmos?’

He paused. ‘From here.’

Andreas took that to mean he was finished with protecting them, but also with cooperating. Time to let him get back to preparing for tomorrow’s ceremony. Andreas wondered who got to play Judas.

What Zacharias missed most was his cell phone. The abbot forbade them in the monastery, and they didn’t work inside anyway. He’d tried, many times. If only he could convince the abbot that modern communication was not a thing of the devil. He’d tried that, too, many times, but the abbot was firm. As long as any telephone number contained the combination 666, the abbot considered all phones linked to Revelation’s Beast of Satan.

With so much in play on the outside at the moment, being incommunicado for more than a week was taking its toll on Zacharias’ good nature. He had to work extra hard at showing he was easygoing and stress-free.

Just take it one day at a time, he was thinking as he chanted prayers with his brethren. Stay under the radar, do not draw attention to yourself. It was a mantra he’d picked up many years before during another period of confinement, surrounded by lines of razor wire and watched over closely by men with guns.

That worked for him then; it’s what made him invisible and allowed him to escape. And it’s what was working for him now; it enabled him to remain in the shadows, quietly amassing a group that shared his vision or, to be more precise, a message he knew would sell. In his other life Zacharias had learned another important truth: it wasn’t the message that mattered, it was whether people were willing to buy it. All he needed was a malleable ally in each monastery, one he could promote to the other monks, and the message would carry itself. So far, so good — three tries, three new abbots.

And his vision was so very simple, only a slight variation on the message of Revelation to the seven churches: Let us find someone who will resolve our monasteries’ problems, lead us back to our first love of God, address the heresy that has infiltrated us, set our priorities back on the right path, and help us to reach out to save our fellow man.

It was a message that gave Zacharias a lot of flexibility. Yes, he definitely knew how to go with what sold.

‘“Into the abyss.” You actually said that?’ Kouros was shaking his head. They were standing in the piazza outside the monastery.

‘I don’t know, the place is spiritual, the words just came to me.’ Andreas grinned. ‘At least I didn’t ask if the name of his mysterious best friend was “Zacharias.”’

‘I admire your discipline.’

‘Yeah, the moment of satisfaction wasn’t worth it. I can guarantee you that bringing up Zacharias’ name to the abbot would get back to him. And with all the powerful friends he seems to have, the last thing we need is Zacharias thinking we’re interested in him. We know he’s covering up a past and probably has a lot of favors he can call in to help keep it that way.’

‘On Sunday.’

‘In these days of text messages and cell phones, who knows? Better to play dumb and see what we can learn elsewhere.’

‘Where do you suggest we start looking?’

‘Hungry?’

Kouros smiled. ‘Thought you’d never ask.’

They started walking. ‘So, what did you find out about our new favorite taverna owner?’

Kouros answered, ‘He’s what he said. A former spook everyone knows about.’

‘For whom?’

‘Not for us. He didn’t work here, he worked in Eastern Europe, speaks four of their languages. The story is that he worked for the highest bidder.’

‘Figures.’

‘But like he said, not field stuff, just analysis.’

‘In other words, he was one of those guys who decided whether it was worth the risk of someone else getting his nuts shot off,’ said Andreas.

‘You could put it that way.’

A minute later they were in Dimitri’s.

‘My friend, how are you?’ Andreas spoke with his arms spread wide.

Dimitri seemed surprised to see them. ‘Hmm, things must be heating up. You’re here every day now.’

‘So you heard about my visit yesterday?’

He shrugged. ‘Force of habit. I like to keep informed.’

‘Great. Is there a place we can talk?’

‘Sure, you’re regulars now. Let me show you to your table.’ He told a passing waiter to bring coffee and sweets, and dropped into a chair next to the table. ‘So, what can I do for you?’

‘We’re looking for somebody,’ Andreas said.

Dimitri nodded.

‘But this has to be hush-hush. We’re not even sure the guy’s on the island, but if he is and learns we’re looking for him, poof, he’ll disappear.’

‘Okay, I get it.’

‘If you can help us we’d appreciate it, really appreciate it. But, if after we talk word gets out that we’re looking for someone…’ Andreas shook his head in a way that made voicing a threat unnecessary. ‘So, if you offer to help, great. If not, no hard feelings.’