Jeffrey Siger - An Aegean Prophecy

‘You really know how to make a guy feel welcome.’ Dimitri laughed. ‘No problem, I get the picture. As long as he’s not a relative… unless I don’t like the bastard. But no matter who he is, I promise not to tip him off.’

Andreas looked at Kouros. Kouros nodded.

‘Okay,’ said Andreas. ‘Your word’s good enough for us. Well, it’s really three guys.’

‘Eastern European, big?’

‘How the fuck…’ Kouros caught himself.

‘One guy would be tough, but three guys hanging out together in a place they don’t belong get noticed, and people start to talk.’

Andreas shook his head. ‘Go on, please.’

‘Yesterday, was it yesterday — yeah, yesterday — I went over to this farm on the far north end of the island. It has the best fruits and vegetables on Patmos, but this time of the year I go for the eggs. Anyway, I get there and the farmer had three big guys working on repairing a shed. They were strangers; and I asked where they were from. He said he didn’t ask for passports; they just wanted to stay for a few days and were willing to work for food and a place to sleep.’

‘Ever see them around the monastery?’

He shook his head. ‘Not that I recall, but like I told you before, there are a lot of people visiting the monastery now. Big ones, small ones, you name it.’

‘When did they get to the farm?’

‘He said “yesterday,” which would mean Monday. Monday morning.’

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.