Thomas Greanias - The 34th Degree

A ndros arrived in Piraeus dressed as a docker and made his way past the other stevedores into the shipyard offices of Andros Shipping, overlooking the harbor. Uncle Mitchell and Captain Tsatsos were hunched over a chart table when he walked in.

“Reviewing the route for this evening’s run to Kythira, Uncle?”

Uncle Mitchell looked up from his chart and beheld his prodigal nephew. “Why are you wearing those rags?”

“Why, to help you out,” Andros replied cavalierly. “The Turtle Dove should be arriving shortly, and I want to do my part in distributing the Red Cross relief supplies.”

“As if you’ve done even one day of honest work with your hands.” Uncle Mitchell glared at him. “You never came home last night. You didn’t even bother to show up at church this morning. I suppose you couldn’t break away from your duties at the Vasilis estate. All of Athens knows you are a collaborator. I am ashamed of you for your father.”

Andros assumed the seat behind his uncle’s desk and fanned himself with a ship’s manifest. “Oh, Uncle. I’m no collaborator. I’m simply a realist.”

“I should strangle you right now, to keep such filthy words from pouring out of your mouth.”

“I thought you were going to congratulate me, Uncle. Tonight I plan to propose to Aphrodite.”

“You will still marry that slut?”

“Bite your tongue, or I’ll cut it out for you.”

“Strong words for such a puppy. And where will you get married? You think the archbishop will marry you two?”

“Probably not, unless he wishes to come to Cairo.”

His uncle looked at him. “Cairo?”

Andros nodded. “The king will be there, along with other dignitaries who have nothing better to do these days. I hope you’ll join us.”

“Have you ever heard such nonsense, Tsatsos?” Uncle Mitchell asked the old skipper, who had been silent the whole time. “This boy’s gone mad!”

Andros put down the manifest and grew serious. “Secret storage has been prepared for you on the Turtle Dove, Uncle. Get Yiaya, Aunt Maria, and Helen, and be ready to spend the night on board. You’ll leave in the morning. I’ll leave tonight with Tsatsos on the Independence for the run to the National Bands base.”

His uncle and Tsatsos exchanged nervous glances. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the myth of the Trojan horse?”

His uncle stared in wonder. “You? You are-”

“Sinon, Uncle.”

His uncle crossed himself in wonder and looked up to heaven with a great smile. He kissed Andros on the cheek and started crying. “Mother of God, you are your father’s son!”

B aron von Berg was looking through the report that had just arrived from Istanbul when Werner entered his office and took a seat opposite the desk. “Well?” von Berg asked without lifting his eyes.

“The Turtle Dove just docked in Piraeus,” Werner reported. “Altenburg, Neubacher, and the home administration are greeting the Red Cross delegation while the consignments are being loaded onto trucks and other ships for distribution. Herr Andros is there directing the effort.”

“And?”

“Your suspicions are confirmed. It was Andros who allegedly was captured by our own security police in the Royal Gardens last night. The soldiers who chased him picked this up off the sidewalk.” He held up a gold cuff link with a large A embossed in the center.

Von Berg took the cuff link and looked at it. Herr Andros, he could see, was a man of considerably more depth than he had given him credit for. “What does our Gestapo chief say?”

“Wisliceny doesn’t have a clue.”

“And now Andros pops up in Piraeus like nothing’s happened.”

“What do you want me to do now?”

“Nothing yet. According to your observations, Andros also met with Aphrodite yesterday atop Likavitos Hill. What did Helmut have to say about his negligence?”

“He was quite speechless, Herr Oberstgruppenfuhrer.”

“And now?”

“Quite lifeless.”

Von Berg sighed and looked out the French doors to the gardens, where orderlies were setting up tables and lights for the Red Cross reception that evening. He was furious that Aphrodite could still love this man. “What do you suppose they talked about, Werner?”

“Who can say, Herr Oberstgruppenfuhrer?”

“We might try Aphrodite. Bring her to me.”

Werner went out. Von Berg walked over to his safe and removed some photos and looked at them. A few minutes later, Aphrodite came in. Werner ushered her to a chair.

“Please make this quick, Ludwig,” said Aphrodite. “There’s so much to do before the reception and so little time.”

“Yes,” von Berg responded coolly, “of that I have no doubt.” He walked over to the French doors and turned around. “You saw Herr Andros yesterday.”

She seemed too shocked to deny it and said nothing.

“What did he say to you, my love?”

“He wishes to marry me, Ludwig.”

“Still? How faithful of him. What did you say?”

“I…I didn’t know what to say.”

Von Berg paused, photos in hand. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to show you these. But I thought you should be informed of your former fiance’s behavior before you make a wrong decision.”

He spread the photos before her. They showed Chris with a blonde at dinner in Switzerland, on the streets, in bed.

“It seems your fiance is not as faithful as he pretends, Aphrodite. I can only wonder what his true motives are for coming back to Athens. Perhaps you could tell me what he’s told you. I couldn’t bear to see you get hurt.”

She looked up at him with angry, confused eyes. She seemed painfully aware, as he was, that the time to choose sides had come.

T he reception for the Red Cross delegation was in full swing when Andros arrived at the Vasilis estate at half past eight. He looked for Aphrodite as he strolled about the gardens filled with diplomats and dignitaries, but he could not find her. The host of the party, however, was at his elbow instantly.

“Ah, there you are, Herr Andros,” said Baron von Berg, once again sporting his decorated naval dress uniform and aristocratic air. “For a moment I doubted your arrival.”

“Why, I wouldn’t miss this for the world, Baron von Berg. Things in Piraeus kept me busy all afternoon.”

Von Berg nodded. “Where is the rest of the Andros family?” he asked, looking about. “They are noticeably absent.”

“Yes, well, my uncle doesn’t approve of all this, you know. His archaic political views cloud any civilized perspective of the modern world.”

“And business sense, perhaps?” Von Berg smiled.

“Yes, and business sense.” Andros laughed. “Speaking of which, I’d like to conclude the deal we outlined in your office yesterday and propose to Aphrodite tonight. I suppose I should have the ring. Then I can find a private place to pop the question. That’s if I can find her. Have you seen her?”

“Oh, she’s up and about somewhere. Be careful which place you choose. You no doubt heard what happened in the Royal Gardens last night?”

“Who hasn’t? I was there myself when the commotion started, but I quickly jumped back into my car and ordered my chauffeur to drive us away. Dreadful, that such thugs should be running about Athens. Why, that could have been me they killed. Any leads?”

Von Berg looked at him keenly. “None, unfortunately.”

“Communists, you know, all of them. They-”

Andros stopped as Aphrodite appeared at the top of the steps overlooking the garden. Her hair was down tonight, falling gracefully behind her bare bronze shoulders and outshining her elegant black dress. The orchestra struck up a waltz, and Andros excused himself from von Berg. “You’ll pardon me, Baron, but I’d like this waltz.”