An Aegean Prophecy - Jeffrey Siger [81]
Barbara had deflected Vladimir’s overtures enough times to make him look frustrated, but hopefully not enough to make him decide to give up and leave. Andreas put his hand on Barbara’s bare back and gently nudged her forward. Then waved to Vladimir to lean in, over her back. His face was there in an instant.
Andreas shrugged and said in English, ‘I’m sorry that everyone is speaking Greek.’
‘Don’t worry, it’s no problem.’
Andreas knew he wasn’t serious. Men like Vladimir never expected to be left out of any conversation. ‘Still, I’m sure you’d be more gracious in your country.’
Vladimir smiled, sat up, and said something in Russian to one of his bodyguards hovering nearby. In seconds three bottles of ice-cold vodka appeared, shots were poured, and lifted in a toast. ‘To Greece,’ Vladimir said.
‘To Russia,’ added Andreas.
The two men smiled at each other, clinked glasses, did the same with Barbara, and downed their shots. That became their ritual over the next hour and a half. Vodka shots separated by animated conversation in English over Barbara’s naked back, with both men gesturing and touching her in the process. She didn’t seem to mind; it was as if she didn’t even notice.
It now was five thirty in the morning and the place was jammed. Vladimir’s head was halfway across Barbara’s back, his hand down about her waist, just resting there, until needed for a gesture. Both men clearly were feeling the vodka.
‘So, my friend, what was it you wanted to ask me?’
Andreas smiled. ‘I see Katerina can keep a secret.’
Vladimir laughed. ‘Yes, so I’ve noticed.’ They slapped high fives and Vladimir let his hand slide along Barbara’s back to its resting place below. ‘No, really, if I can help you, it would be my honor.’
Andreas shook his head. ‘No reason to get you involved. The investigation has been shut down. No one wants to touch it.’
‘Sounds interesting.’
‘Too interesting I’m afraid. But once I caught the three Serbian bastards who killed the monk, no one wanted to go further with it. Case closed.’
‘Was that why you wanted to talk to me, about the Serbs?’ He gestured with his head to one of his men to pour another round. His hand never moved from Barbara’s back.
‘No, I was more interested in another guy.’
‘What guy?’
‘I don’t know, the dead monk had some press clippings on him in Serbian about a war criminal who died years ago in Switzerland. I thought you might know somebody who could tell us about the guy in the clippings.’
‘Why would you care about a dead war criminal?’
‘The question is, “Why would an old monk care about a dead war criminal?”’
They lifted their shots, clinked, and drank. Thankfully, thought Andreas, Barbara had stopped doing shots a half hour ago.
Andreas leaned in closer over Barbara’s back. ‘Frankly, Vladimir, I wanted your help in getting some of your boys back home to take a look at what we found on the dead monk’s computer. He was trying to prove Russians were behind all of the Greek Church’s troubles on Mount Athos.’ Andreas sat back up. ‘But what the hell, I left the stuff at Barbara’s. Doesn’t matter anymore anyway.’ He poured himself another shot. ‘No one wants to find out if all this “blame the Russians” talk is for real.’ He chugged the drink. ‘Or who might be behind it.’
Vladimir stared at Andreas, and slowly stroked Barbara’s back.
Andreas said nothing more. Anything else would be overkill. He knew Vladimir was sober enough to comprehend everything he’d said, for the Russian’s mind was set on getting Andreas drunk enough to get a shot at Barbara’s panties. Good luck to him.
Vladimir said something in Russian to one of his bodyguards, then poured another round for everyone at the table. ‘To us, the night is young.’
It was nearly eight in the morning when they got back to Barbara’s house. Barbara resisted Vladimir’s last-minute effort to get the two