Thomas Greanias - The 34th Degree

“That, I suppose, depends on your point of view.” Eliot smiled. “The way I see it, as the ranking SOE officer in Greece at this moment, I can persuade the Foreign Office in Cairo to support ELAS and the nascent democracy growing in Greece. Even if they don’t, I can ensure that the National Liberation Front’s army has the weapons it needs to boot Zervas out with the rest of the fascists.”

Eliot put his cup of tea on the counter next to the Mauser and the cartridge of microfilm. “The irony is,” he went on, “if Commander Lloyd had reached the monks in Meteora before von Berg, I already would have had the Maranatha text, and the OSS wouldn’t have sent you in. None of this would have happened.”

Andros wasn’t sure what Eliot was talking about, but the British brigadier and Soviet spy had confirmed that a text did exist. At least Prestwick and Donovan hadn’t lied to him about that. But Andros realized the text contained more than the Germans’ enciphered defense plans for Greece. The Maranatha text, as Eliot called it, had to be a religious document, if it involved monks from Meteora.

“Since when is an atheist like Stalin so interested in a religious text?” asked Andros, stalling while he tried to think of a way out.

“From his seminary days in Tbilisi,” Eliot said. “He has a thorough understanding of how men use religion to manipulate and oppress entire societies. He simply stripped it of its stained-glass facade. And for that, he’s called a cruel dictator while those pious bastards in the Church of England have their rings kissed by the royal family and are called holy men of God. Isn’t that the case with the Greek Orthodox Church?”

Andros said nothing.

“Nevertheless,” said Eliot, “you’ve surpassed my expectations for an OSS man by actually managing to break into von Berg’s safe in Kifissia.”

Andros glanced at the counter on which Eliot had placed the film negative and microfilm cartridge. If the Maranatha text wasn’t in von Berg’s safe, where was it? The answer, he guessed, was on the film negative and not the microfilm exposures Werner made him shoot. Furthermore, wherever this Maranatha text was, there he would probably find Aphrodite.

Eliot could see his mind at work. “When we picked you up after the party and drove you to Piraeus, I was tempted to take the film from you then and there. But then I would be failing in my duties as a British agent and would tip my hand to my underlings in the car, whose loyalties to the Crown are quite unquestionable.”

“And because you knew you had Kalos at the National Bands base.” Andros looked at Kalos, who had pulled a bottle of brandy from the sideboard and was pouring himself a glass.

“And Stavros, before he buckled,” said Eliot, who picked up his Mauser and pointed it at Andros. “As they were the ones going to make the actual raid to steal the text, I was confident it would eventually come back to me if they succeeded. They would steal it-all for Mr. Churchill, of course-and Stavros would kill Doughty and the other British officers.”

“But why?” asked Andros, beginning to worry about Erin back at Theo’s.

“Doughty was getting suspicious,” Eliot explained. “According to Kalos here, he was about to telegraph some reports to the Foreign Office that, if interpreted with other goings-on in Greece, would implicate me.”

Andros said, “So you gave the Nazis the location of the base.”

“That’s right,” Eliot replied.

“Then von Berg’s men blew up the base and we came here,” Andros concluded. “So I suppose there never was an escape route for us tonight.”

“Oh, but there is,” said Eliot. “Can’t risk it being said that I haven’t been faithful in my capacities as chief of SOE Athens. I’d let you go right now if you didn’t know Kalos’s identity. Unfortunately, my role as the Minotaur calls for me to kill you.”

“It won’t work,” Andros said. “Stavros told us about your plans to destroy Zervas and consolidate power.”

“Stavros can talk all he wants to the Gestapo,” said Eliot. “Kalos, the phone, please.”

Kalos pulled a phone from beneath the sideboard and handed it to Eliot, who put his Mauser on the counter while Kalos covered Andros with his Colt.

“You don’t mind if I make a local call, do you?” Eliot asked Andros as he dialed. A moment later, he cleared his throat and spoke in precise German. “You may be interested to know that none other than the Communist terrorist Stavros Moudjouras is at this moment hiding out in a room over Theo’s taverna. If you move quickly, you may yet catch him.” He hung up and looked at Andros. “I hate loose ends.”

“I suppose you’d include me in that category?”

“Most definitely.”

Andros realized that it was now or never. If he didn’t get out of there this minute, Erin and Stavros would be caught by the Gestapo, and they’d all be dead.

“Can I at least have some brandy?” Andros asked. “Or a cigarette?”

“Kalos, give him a cigarette.”

Kalos extended an open carton of black-market cigarettes while Eliot kept Andros covered with the Mauser. Andros withdrew a cigarette and allowed Kalos to give him a light. Kalos produced a familiar-looking gold lighter. “A gift from Brigadier Eliot,” he said, and flicked it open. “You like it, heh?”

It was Aphrodite’s lighter, the one Andros had left behind during his escape from Athens. Seeing it in the filthy hands of this criminal only furthered his resolve to get out of there somehow. He leaned forward to touch the end of his cigarette to the flame and then sat back and inhaled. He glanced out the window. It was pitchblack outside. Erin and Stavros were either worrying about what had happened to him or had no time to worry because the Germans had gotten to them.

“Well, Mr. Andros,” said Eliot, raising the Mauser, “I’m afraid it’s time to die.”

“Can’t I finish my cigarette?” Andros inhaled and held his breath as he looked into the Mauser’s barrel.

A curious look crossed Eliot’s face, and he lowered the Mauser. “Fine,” he said. “Two more breaths.”

Andros exhaled smoke and casually leaned over to tip the ashes of his cigarette.

Eliot smiled. “You have one breath left.”

Andros nodded and quickly swung his arm to knock aside Kalos’s revolver. He then kicked the chair out from under Eliot, who crashed to the floor. Eliot reached for his Mauser, but Andros stepped on the outstretched arm until the grip loosened around the pistol. He bent down to pick it up when Eliot grabbed his legs and pulled him to the floor. An unbearable shock of pain jolted Andros.

“Kalos!” called Eliot.

Andros looked up in time to see Kalos walk up holding an ax over his head. Raising his trembling arm, Andros fired a bullet into Kalos’s chest. Kalos stumbled backward and was brought to the floor by the weight of the ax.

Eliot tightened his grip around Andros’s legs, sending further ripples of pain up his spine.

Andros swung the butt of the Mauser against Eliot’s skull and heard a sickening crack. He could feel the man’s arms loosen from around his legs.

When Andros stood up, he saw that the Minotaur was dead. He also smelled something burning, and when he turned, he saw that his cigarette had started a fire by the baseboard. A curtain of flame shot up the wall and started licking the ceiling. It wouldn’t be long before the entire tinderbox of a warehouse came crashing down on him.

He thought of Erin and Stavros at Theo’s taverna. I have to get back to them before the Gestapo does, he thought. No time to waste.

Grabbing the microfilm cartridge and negative from the counter, he headed toward the garage. There was the lorry, pointed toward the closed garage door. He ran over and climbed into the cab behind the wheel. He turned the key in the ignition, and the engine roared to life. Then he shifted gears and stepped on the accelerator.