Neil Olson - The Icon

“I’m down here.”

The tavern owner jumped in surprise.

“Easy,” said the captain, rising to his feet. “Put your pistol down.” He had not actually seen a weapon, but he heard the thunk of it being released. “Light a lantern.”

“Who has oil, besides you and the Germans?”

“A candle, then.”

The low, flickering light revealed a swollen bruise around Stefano’s left eye, and his refusal to look at the captain made questions almost unnecessary, but Elias had to be certain.

“Did you deliver the message to Mikalis?” Elias asked.

“If you ask me, then you know I didn’t.”

“Who did that to your face?”

“Mavroudas. The old man.”

“To learn the message?”

“He already knew that. To persuade me not to go, to let him go in my place.”

“Beat you with one hand, paid you with the other.”

“What does it matter?”

“You’re very casual for a traitor.”

Stefano’s eye widened, the first sign of real alarm.

“I am no traitor. Did he not deliver the message?”

“You must have known that he intended more than that.”

“How am I to know what he has in mind? He threatened to kill me if I crossed him.”

“He delivered it. Then things went wrong. Mikalis is dead.”

“No.” The tavern keeper’s face collapsed, and tears welled up in his eyes. Did he think that Elias was about to execute him, or was it real grief for the life of the popular priest? Who could say? The captain wanted to strike him, but might knock him senseless, which would not serve his purposes. He stepped in close and put the pistol to Stefano’s throat.

“I should kill you, but I need you to do two things. You must not fail in either.”

Stefano nodded.

“You will go to the German major, Müller,” Elias continued.

“You’ll tell him that the business at the church was a mistake. The deal is still possible. I will bring him what he wants before sundown tomorrow, but he must not shoot anyone. If he does, everything is off. He must be alone when you tell him, and you must reach him before sunrise. Do you understand?”

Stefano paused only a moment, licking his dry lips.

“I will do it.”

Elias stepped away and put the pistol back in his belt.

“If you do, you will save many lives. But you must be swift, and you must convince him. No one can know of this, ever. It is your death if you speak.”

“Of course.”

The tavern owner’s eyes burned with sincerity, but that would pass. Such secrets got out. Someone would see Stefano and Müller together, maybe the communists would get hold of him. It was just the sort of story they wanted to hear, republicans and Germans in bed together. Stefano would say what he must to survive, or even sell the information. He was slippery, an unwise choice, but there was no one else. Kosta was gone. Elias’ other men didn’t know what he was doing, and they would never support it if they did. Every man in the village was compromised. Though who was he to judge, Elias wondered of himself; he, the most compromised man of all? All the good men were dead.

“After you see Müller, go to my father’s widow.” He would not call her his stepmother. “Tell her that her son’s body lies in the northwest corner of the crypt. She may send a man there to find him. Go yourself if she asks.”

Stefano seemed more daunted by this task than the previous one, but nodded his assent.

“Don’t fail me, Stefano. Don’t fail all of us.”

They left by separate doors. Back on the dark streets, Elias made all possible speed toward the north hill. It was low, not heavily wooded, but on this moonless night it was merely a looming shadow, and he could make out no sign of his men. He still did not know what they might have heard, or guessed. Would they welcome his arrival, or stand him against a tree and shoot him? Pressed for time, he rushed up the slope, content for them to discover him. They did. Halfway up, young Panayiotis emerged out of the shadows.

“You’re clumsy tonight, Captain. I almost thought you were a German.”

“Take me to Giorgios.”

Most of the men, twenty-five or so, were among the boulders near the summit, the rangy former infantry sergeant pacing fiercely among them. Giorgios was slightly ridiculous in his scraggly beard and soiled Italian colonel’s uniform-booty from the Albanian campaign-but he was the best leader of men that Elias had.

“Mother of God, it’s good you’re here,” said Giorgios when he saw the captain. “We needed you before. The damn Snake wouldn’t let us attack.”

So they were still blind to the subterfuge, thought Elias, with a strange sadness.

“Slowly.”

“We found the villa where the weapons were stored, right where you said it would be.”

“Yes.”

“Just a few Germans guarding it, one light machine gun. We could have taken it, but when the shooting started at the church, the Snake sent word that we were not to try.”

“Sent word? He wasn’t with you?”

“The Snake? At first, but not then. He said he needed to watch the Germans in the village. He left me in charge. I should have ignored him, we wasted an opportunity.”

“No, Giorgios, you did right. The men are more important than the weapons. Listen to me now, I need your help. Tell me how to find Gregori’s chapel.”

“Gregori’s chapel? Why?”

“Kosta has betrayed me.” He could not bring himself to say

“us.” “He has gone to this chapel to hide. I must seek him there.”

It was still quite dark, but the sky was just beginning to pale in the east. Elias could not read Giorgios’ reaction, except in his silence.

“The devil take him,” Giorgios finally whispered. “Is the icon destroyed?”

“I do not know. Old Mavroudas meant to steal it. The Snake is dealing with him. I must find Kosta now.”

“And Father Mikalis?”

The grief swelled again. When all this was over he would sleep for days, or perhaps forever, depending on how things fell out.

“Giorgios, the chapel. Help me.”

“Down the other side of this hill, the path to the high meadow. Follow it to the end.”

“That’s Mary’s chapel.”

“Past that a kilometer, and up a rocky slope. You will be almost to Vrateni. It is a very desolate place. The chapel commands the ground. Be careful. Better still, take some men.”

“No, I go alone. You must take charge here. Spiro and Leftheris are at the old monastery, the rest at the cave. Move to a safer place, if you can, and await word from me. Follow the Snake’s commands if they seem wise to you, but protect the men. And Giorgios, do not tell him, or anyone, where I have gone.”

The sky was just light enough now to read the confusion and unease on the andarte’s face. No one loved the Snake, but Giorgios was experienced enough to know that it was never a good thing to have commanders at odds with each other. Elias, with no words of comfort in his heart, turned away from the young soldier and the brightening eastern sky, and pushed north once more.

SPRING 2000

He had stood right there by the window, face in shadow, as befit his clouded intentions, perhaps. Ana couldn’t say for sure. Outside it rained, and she had not turned on a lamp, so the room was dim-the long, cold dining room that they had not been in together before. Neutral ground. Matthew did not want to venture further into the house.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” he’d said. “I couldn’t speak to you until the police did.”

“Did they tell you that?”

“No.”

“You didn’t want them to think you would influence my statement.”

“I didn’t want you to think that.”