An Aegean Prophecy - Jeffrey Siger [67]
‘I’m sorry, Andreas, no. It’s really out of our hands. Let us just accept it. Consider it the internal problem of another country, and none of our concern.’
‘But it’s our church.’
‘And we must protect it.’
‘From whom?’
‘Andreas, this is going nowhere. We both know it.’
Andreas let out a deep breath. ‘Get some balls’ was what he wanted to say. The minister wasn’t really a bad guy, just an ass-kisser forever afraid of losing status in the eyes of his social crowd. In other words, he did as he was told to keep his job. But, to be fair, in this instance it was pretty clear to Andreas that it wouldn’t matter if a huge pair of steel arhidia magically appeared. Someone above him would cut them off for sure. Andreas said goodbye and hung up.
‘It’s out of our hands.’ That was the phrase the minister used. Poor bastard doesn’t even realize the irony of what he’d said. It’s not ‘out of our hands.’ It is, as Vassilis wrote in the two-line note he carried to his death: Prepare, for the time is in their hands.
16
Greece’s Cycladic Aegean island of Mykonos was only twenty-five minutes by plane from Athens. About one and one half times the size of Manhattan, Mykonos had more than three times the population of Patmos and the reputation for an in-season, 24/7 party lifestyle unmatched in the world. In other words, Mykonos was about the last place you’d go to find a monk. Which was exactly why Kouros chose to spend his unexpected Easter holiday there. He still had buddies on the island from his rookie cop days, and that meant places to stay for free.
In winter Mykonos was a sleepy island village with virtually no tourists, no business, few open bars, fewer restaurants, and no clubs. But come Easter Week everything changed. The old town came to life, like the red and yellow springtime poppies bursting out all over Mykonos hillsides. It seemed that every world-class partier in the know and every Greek who could find a place to stay was on Mykonos from Thursday through Monday of Easter Week. But this taste of the coming mid-summer craziness was short lived. If you didn’t catch the action that weekend come back in June, because the island was back in hibernation come Tuesday.
It was a particularly warm weekend for April and that meant time on the beach; maybe not in the water quite yet, but definitely on the beach. Kouros was face down on a towel, thinking of nothing but the naked bodies lying not too far away when he heard his phone.
‘Let me guess, it’s my dream come true.’
‘I sure as hell hope not for your sake.’
‘What’s up, Chief?’
‘Honestly, nothing. I mean nothing we can do anything about. I’m just calling because you’re the only one I can bitch to.’
‘I guess that means Maggie won’t listen.’
‘Her exact words were, “I told you so.”’
‘Oh boy.’
‘Let me share with you my most recent example of why police work is so fulfilling.’
‘Uh, Chief, are you sure you want to do this over a cell phone?’
‘I think the appropriate line is found in a famous American movie. “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”’
‘Thank you too, dear, but still, don’t you think—’
‘Yianni, unless we’re going back to the days of runners carrying messages from lips to ears - and that Marathon sucker Pheidippides died anyway - we’ll just have to risk it at times. Besides, if what I’m about to tell you gets out, it won’t matter anyway. I’ve been told no one will pursue it.’
Kouros turned his head away from the naked bodies. He concentrated on the rocky hills, bright blue sky, and his chief’s anger. By the time Andreas finished, Kouros was sitting up, shaking his fist, and yelling, ‘Miserable bastards, I’d like to show them what I’d do to that cocksucker Zacharias if he were in my hands.’
Kouros watched a nearby couple grab their clothes and hurry away from him. ‘I understand why you’re angry, Chief, but what can we do about it?’
‘Wish I knew. Well, think about it, and if anything comes to you let me know.’
‘Why don’t you run it past our friend?’ Kouros paused. ‘Mr T.’
‘Mr T?’
Kouros heard